


Hunger

by I_K_Ros



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Faerie Toris, Former Punk Arthur, Human Arthur, Incubus Alfred, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Nymph Feliks, just bone already
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-01-31 00:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 122,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12664992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_K_Ros/pseuds/I_K_Ros
Summary: Life isn't easy when you're an immortal creature of myth, but Alfred F. Jones has been doing it for 251 years. Then, while visiting London, he runs into a human who throws him for a loop-Arthur Kirkland, the first person to ever resist Alfred's charms. Instead of forgetting about Arthur, Alfred becomes determined to win the Brit's heart.





	1. Chapter 1

_Hurry. Hungry._

There had to be somewhere nearby where he could find a good meal. A bar or a club, somewhere that involved alcohol so he could feed as soon as possible. God, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been this hungry. Why had he waited so long between feedings?

Right, because the lovebirds had convinced him to come to London with them and he hadn’t even had the chance to feed during the last two days.

_Should’ve fed off them. They wouldn’t mind. They love it._

But he didn’t like to feed off them. They were his friends and he didn’t want to be dependent on them for food. Besides, they were so busy with each other that he felt selfish for asking to be included.

_Hurryhurryhurry! Hungry!_

His impatience and the overwhelming need growing, Alfred popped his knuckles as his gaze searched desperately for the telltale signs of a bar. This was London, for hell’s sake! There should be a place to get a drink around here somewhere! Long legs carried him quickly down the sidewalk, almost but not quite jogging because, while he was about to go mad with hunger, he didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

_There! Yes! A pub! Fucking finally!_

Relief flooded him and he slipped inside the pub’s front door, hands shoved into his pockets so that they wouldn’t twitch for everyone to see. Blue eyes all but glowed behind glasses as they adjusted to the dim lighting and scanned the people already there. Alfred hadn’t even taken his first step towards the bar when his breath caught in his throat and he froze, staring. There was a man sitting alone at the bar. His back was to Alfred and his shoulders were hunched up almost to his ears, but that didn’t mean anything. Even wearing loose business clothes, he was obviously a very thin man and his blond hair looked like it would be amazingly soft. Al wanted to run his hands through it.

_Him. Feed. Now. Hungry. Him._

Fixing a charming smile in place, Alfred straightened his jacket and ran a hand through his own ash blond hair to give himself a perfectly messy look, young and reckless and wild and definitely capable of giving someone a good time. He approached the blond sitting at the bar and gracefully slid onto the stool next to him—the stranger didn’t look up or even appear to notice that there was now someone sitting next to him.

“Hey, there,” Alfred greeted, his tone friendly with a slightly flirtatious edge. “What’s your name?”

The man straightened slightly, looking around as if he wasn’t sure who was being spoken to, then turned and stared straight at Alfred. “Are you talking to me?”

Immediately, Alfred’s mind went blank. It was almost impossible not to stare like a star-struck idiot. Somehow, on his first night out in London, he’d managed to find a man with insanely green eyes set in a pale, elegantly narrow face. The blond hair was revealed to be multiple shades of gold and he had thick eyebrows that were drawn together in confusion. Then there was the accent, of course. Alfred almost didn’t want to believe that this guy was human even though he knew that he was.

_Beautiful. Perfect. Want. Need._

“Course I am. I don’t see any other handsome guys sitting at this bar.” He winked playfully, his smile turning into an outright grin that was borderline seductive smirk.

A light blush colored the man’s cheeks and he lowered his gaze to the bar top. “H-handsome?”

Shit, that was damn fucking adorable. The man was shy and Alfred wanted to pull him into a tender hug, nuzzle his cheek and kiss his neck and whisper sweet nothings into his ear until the Brit was a blushing, mumbling mess for Al to take home and make love to for hours on end. God, yes, he wanted to do that.

“Handsomest man in all of London.”

The blush darkened. “Flatterer,” he accused, and Alfred laughed his usual charming laugh.

“But an honest flatterer. So, you gonna tell me your name or do I have to try to guess?”

“N-no, you don’t have to guess.” He offered a nervous smile and held his hand out. “I’m Arthur.”

Arthur. It was the perfect name for this perfect man and Alfred shook his hand with only barely contained eagerness.

“Nice to meet ya, Arthur. I’m Alfred, but you can call me Al.”

“You’re American,” Arthur commented as he took his hand back and wrapped it securely around the half-full glass sitting in front of him.

“Sure am! I’ve been to London before, but not for a while. Things have changed a bit and, well, I’m not actually sure where I am,” Alfred admitted with an embarrassed chuckle. It wasn’t entirely true. Yes, he’d been to London before, years ago, and yes, things had changed, but he knew his way around these streets well enough to find his way back to the hotel once he was done feeding. Besides, he wouldn’t be going back until morning.

_Maybe not ‘til tomorrow afternoon. I could really take my time with this guy. He’s probably a god in bed. He’d be like a feast._

“Are you by yourself?” The Brit was obviously only concerned for Alfred’s welfare and didn’t have any ulterior motives for asking, but Al wanted to make him blush again.

“I was, but I’ve decided that I’d like to enjoy your company for the evening,” he replied, his voice dropping slightly so that Arthur knew what he was hinting at. As he’d expected, the smaller blond’s cheeks flushed again. What he hadn’t counted on, though, was the sudden frown he received.

“Aren’t you a cocky one.” Arthur turned to face the bar again and took a drink from his glass. “Well, you can forget about that, because I’m not so easily wooed. What kind of man would I be if I got picked up by every good-looking git that swaggered through that door? No, I have my pride, so if you’re looking for a quick hook-up, then you can shift your arse to the club around the corner.”

Shocked, Alfred blinked wide blue eyes at the Brit and tried to think of something to say in response to that. No one had ever turned him down before.

“I…I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to offend you or sound like a…a git. You’re just really good-looking and you seem nice and I don’t have plans for the evening and I honestly would like to get to know you better.”

_Stop! Stop! What the hell are you saying?! Just accept that he isn’t interested and go to the club, you moron! You don’t have time for this “wooing” bull shit! It’s time to feed and you know what’ll happen if you don’t hurry up and find someone!_

He ignored the warning bells in his head, ignored the burning itch-like sensation in the back of his brain that was on the verge of driving him mad. Yeah, he could go to the club around the corner, but he didn’t want to. He wanted Arthur and leaving now would only prove to the Brit that Alfred was just some asshole looking for a fuck buddy. That wasn’t what he wanted.

_That’s what I am, though. I need food and soon and I can’t afford to spend all night trying to win over some guy who might say no, anyway._

“Then quit trying to pick me up,” Arthur muttered, glaring into his glass as if the liquid inside had personally insulted him. “I’m not some hussy looking for a good time.”

Almost ashamed of himself, Alfred lowered his gaze. “I know. I’m sorry.”

They were quiet for a moment as the bartender came and refilled Arthur’s glass; Alfred declined to order anything.

“What are you in London for? Business?”

Alfred smiled in relief—he wasn’t a lost cause just yet. “No, I’m on vacation with a couple of friends. I’m the third wheel, though, so I’m on my own for tonight.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Arthur swirled the golden liquor he’d been partaking of that evening then glanced at Alfred out of the corner of his eye. “Listen, I’m sorry for going off on you like that. I shouldn’t get so worked up over these little things, but…well, not that you care or that it’s your problem at all, but I’ve had a run of bad luck lately when it comes to romance so I’m a bit more defensive than usual. But if you’re asking me out, not just looking for sex, then I do think it would be fun.”

_Yes! He wants to go out with me!_

_But you need to eat. He just said he won’t sleep with you. What are you going to do?_

Despite the blow reality had just dealt to his private victory, Alfred couldn’t help but grin. “Great!”

The Brit chuckled at his enthusiasm. “You’re a funny one, Alfred. I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

“That’s cause no one is quite like me,” Alfred replied playfully, leaning closer to the green-eyed man so that Arthur blushed again.

“Oh, shove off. I’ve had enough for one night, but,” smiling slightly, he grabbed Alfred’s hand and picked up an abandoned pen from the bar top then wrote on the American’s palm, “you can call me, and we’ll set up that date. All right?”

“Cool.” Blue eyes examined the number and Alfred looked back at the Brit in time for Arthur to quickly lean in and kiss him. It startled Al enough that he froze, eyes going wide, until Arthur pulled away a few moments later, blushing darkly.

“See you around, Alfred,” he mumbled, looking up at the taller man through his bangs so that it was green framed by gold and Alfred was left absolutely speechless. Then he slid off his stool, placed money for his drink on the bar, and quickly left the pub. Alfred’s gaze followed him the whole way, watching how his hips swayed ever so slightly as he walked and the noticing the way Arthur glanced back at him just before he disappeared through the door.

_I have a date with Arthur._

Just the thought made him want to let out a self-congratulatory woop. He didn’t though, choosing instead to quietly leave the pub and set off down the sidewalk towards the corner. Hooking up with some stranger at the club Arthur had mentioned after meeting the Brit wasn’t exactly appealing, but he still needed to feed and that kiss had only made him hungrier. He’d call Arthur tomorrow and set up their date. For now, it was feeding time.

X

He managed to keep his cool all the way back to his apartment. It really wasn’t that far of a walk, but it felt like it took years just to make it those few blocks away from the pub. For that time, Arthur remained as calm, cool and collected as always. The moment his door was locked and he was safely alone in his apartment, though, he let out a groan and slumped against the wall, a hand over his eyes.

“Bloody hell…”

What on earth had he been thinking? Just because the git had big blue eyes and that cute little cowlick and did he really have anything coherent to say about that smile and that bloody accent? For no real good reason, he’d given his number to a complete stranger! A stranger he knew nothing about, who was in London on vacation! What exactly did he think was going to happen? He’d go on a date with the man, maybe even develop an attraction to him, and what? It couldn’t turn into anything—Alfred would go back to America and Arthur would never see him again.

Ooh, he didn’t like to think about that.

Sighing, the Briton pushed himself away from the wall and made his way through the apartment to his bedroom, clicking on the small lamp that stood on the nightstand. His room was small and rather plain, as was the rest of his apartment, but it was cozy. Neat. Well kept. It wasn’t much, but it was his, and he was proud of it.

Green eyes landed on the bed and for a moment he considered collapsing onto the soft mattress without bothering to undress and just sleep in his clothes. Tempting, tempting. Somehow, the energy he’d had when he went to the pub had abandoned him, but he supposed he could just be feeling a little drained due to his run-in with the American. Falling asleep right at that moment would be easy. His upbringing didn’t allow for that, though, so he ignored the bed for now and changed out of his work clothes, tossing them into the hamper, then put on his pajamas. He brushed his teeth, washed his face and combed his hair like any other well-raised Englishman. Then, finally, he crawled into bed and snuggled under the covers.

_I gave my number to an American tourist and he’s going to call me and we’re going to go on a date._

Arthur buried his face in his hands as an anguished groan escaped him. “Ugh, what was I thinking?”

_And I kissed him. I bloody kissed him, after telling him I’m not a hussy. The poor man probably doesn’t know what to think of me now._

None of what he’d done in that pub made sense. It was supposed to be a regular Friday night. Get off work, stop for a drink on his way home, then come back to the apartment and go to bed. Spend Saturday relaxing, read a book and have some tea, maybe go to the park and feed the birds. Now he was going to spend all of tomorrow waiting for Alfred to call him, and he knew he’d be upset if the blue-eyed man didn’t call for a few days. He’d flirted with a complete stranger, which was completely unlike him. He’d also lectured that stranger, admitted to that stranger that his love life hadn’t been going very well lately, gave his number to that stranger and then kissed him before walking out as if that was how he spent every Friday night!

“I’m such a git. What am I supposed to do about this? I can’t very well tell him that I’ve changed my mind and don’t want to go out with him, after all.”

Besides, he didn’t want to do that. No one in his right mind would turn down the chance to go on a date with Alfred, not after having that smile aimed at them, not after being called “the handsomest man in London” by the handsomest American tourist that ever existed. Alfred had been so confident and suave, so sure of what he wanted and sure that he could get it. But the moment he thought he’d been rude, the suave stranger disappeared. He’d become a kind-hearted, sweet young man who was looking for someone to spend his time with. It had been rather cute.

_But this is bad! He’s good-looking and charming and if I was so attracted to him that I kissed him already then how am I supposed to keep my distance so it doesn’t hurt when he goes back to America?_

Intimacy had never been something that Arthur was good at. He was terrible at being intimate, at flirting and being playful with his partners. It was always a shock when someone actually took an interest in him, but never surprising when his usually cold demeanor drove those people away. What had he been called? Cold. Uncaring. Distant. His relationships had been described as “convenient” and “boring” and “stale.” Partners asked why he couldn’t be a little more adventurous, why he never tried anything new. And Arthur never had answers for them.

Now, though, now he’d done something new. He’d kissed a stranger he’d met in a pub, and given the man his number. Even better, that stranger was handsome and charming, the kind of man that Arthur would never have thought he had a chance with. Yet Alfred had chosen him. Out of all the men in the pub tonight, Arthur had been chosen. It made a small balloon of pride inflate in his chest. Alfred thought he was handsome.

“This will be good for me,” he told himself firmly, finally coming to terms with the situation enough to stop hiding his face. “I’ll go on this whirlwind romance adventure, and even if it doesn’t pan out, well, at least I’ll have the story to tell of the dashing American who swept me off my feet. For once, I’ll do what no one expects, and I’ll come out better than I am now. Alfred’s different, somehow. Any fool can see that, and until he goes back to America, well, I’m going to enjoy the fact that he’s in London.”

That made him feel better, thinking of this as an adventure, something to spice up the life that everyone else considered to be so dull. Alfred was anything but dull, and he seemed to think that Arthur was special, too. If anything, Arthur meant to live up to the American’s expectations. He was a well-off man with a good job, he was intelligent and, despite what everyone else seemed to think, he could be spontaneous and fun. He’d had his rebellious teenage years, after all, and still bore the evidence of them.

“I’ll show them. I’ll show them how much fun Arthur Kirkland is. No one will ever call me ‘boring’ again.”

Feeling rather smug now, the Briton settled more comfortably under the blankets and let his eyes fall closed. He took a deep breath, letting the relaxing scent of lavender fill his nose, then sighed. Already, sleep began to creep up on him, and his thoughts of Alfred began to blur together until it was a jumbled mess of impossibly blue eyes and dazzling smiles.

“I’m going on a date with a gorgeous American,” he mumbled to himself, smiling, just before he drifted off. It was the best thing he’d fallen asleep to in a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

The door opened and a pair of green eyes lifted from the magazine held in elegant, perfectly manicured hands. Their owner examined a tall, blond, blue-eyed man who had a little more bounce in his step than normal and was smiling as though he couldn’t help himself. “You look happy.”

Alfred’s grin didn’t falter in the slightest as he shook water from his hair and shrugged out of his jacket—it had been raining during his walk back, but he didn’t mind—before dropping into one of the empty chairs near the person who had spoken to him.

“I am happy. I’m great. Fantastic. Couldn’t be better.”

Putting the magazine aside, a boy with chin-length blond hair crossed one leg over the other and leaned on the armrest of the chair he’d been lounging in so that he could smirk at his slightly damp friend. “Good hunting last night?”

“Yeah. Well, no. I mean, that’s not what I’m happy about.”

“Then why are you, like, so giddy or whatever?” the younger blond asked. “You’ve never been this excited just from getting laid.”

True. He was usually a lot calmer about it, mostly because he didn’t look at sex as sex. Sex was food and little else. But that might be changing.

“I met someone, Feliks. Someone different.”

Interest lit up Feliks’ green eyes and he shifted closer to Alfred. “What’s this someone’s name?”

“Arthur.”

Feliks sat up and turned towards a door set in the wall behind him and to his left. “Tor! Come hear Al’s story about last night!”

Within moments, a brunet male who looked to be about the same age as Feliks appeared through the door, his brow furrowed over blue eyes. “Why would I want to hear about what he had for dinner last night?”

Rolling his eyes, Feliks simply gestured for Toris to join them on the chairs. The moment the brunet sat down, the blond got up and traded his spot on the chair for one on the other boy’s lap. They were instantly half wrapped around each other, Feliks’ white skirt riding up strategically high to entice Toris’ hands to explore.

_Yum._

Alfred shook his head to clear his thoughts. “You two are making me hungry, and I just ate. Keep your clothes on for ten minutes.”

His comment made Feliks pout while Toris blushed and mumbled an apology. “Sorry…”

“Seriously, you guys have more sex than I do and I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to go.”

“It’s, like, not just sex for us,” Feliks pointed out before offering a loving smile to Toris, “we’re bonded mates. We make love.” The brunet’s blush darkened but he returned the smile then hugged the slightly shorter male around the waist, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I’m an incubus and I have to have sex or I’ll starve to death. ‘Making love’ wasn’t really an option before.”

That caught Feliks’ attention enough for him to stop trying to get Toris to look at him. “Before? So, like, it’s an option, now?”

He couldn’t help but grin, though he did try not to. “I think so.”

Chin now resting on Feliks’ shoulder, Toris looked at his friend with renewed interest. “So you didn’t just eat last night.”

“Uh…no…I mean, I found this chick at a club—she was completely hammered and probably doesn’t remember me at all—but she’s not who I’m talking about.”

“Right,” Feliks interrupted, waving his hand in the air as if dismissing everything Al had said. “Tell us about _Arthur_.” The name was purred and he smirked as he said it because Alfred’s face immediately began turning a light pink.

“I met him in a pub last night before I went to the club to eat.”

Toris frowned a little. “But you were starving when you left last night. How did you manage to stop at a pub just to chat?”

Normally, all the interruptions would have gotten on Alfred’s nerves, but he didn’t mind them today. “Well it’s not like that was my plan. I went there looking for a meal and I just…found Arthur instead.”

“Oh my god.” Feliks sat straight up in Toris’ lap, staring at Alfred intently. “Did he turn you down? Did someone actually say no to you?” He looked and sounded completely shocked, as if this was something that was never supposed to happen and _shouldn’t_ happen.

Alfred nodded, looking down as he did so because, as an incubus, it was his one and only right to pride to be able to say that no human man or woman was capable of resisting him when he decided he wanted them. As much as he’d wanted Arthur, as much charm he’d put into his attempts to seduce the Brit, he’d been turned down as if he was just some kid off the street looking to get some easy fun. “He, uh, lectured me about being cocky.”

A giggle burst from the younger blond. “Because you’re, like, totally cocky, Al,” he laughed, leaning back against Toris as he continued to smile and giggle over the word. “God, that’s the perfect word for you, Incubutt. Cocky. Isn’t he cocky, Tor?”

The brunet smiled in spite of himself. “Yes.”

As much as Alfred hated when Feliks decided to call him “Incubutt,” he didn’t say anything about it. Normally, he would get revenge, which then led to a nice little snack, but today he didn’t feel like it. “Shut up, Liks. It’s not funny. Anyway, this guy is…why could he say no to me? He’s human so he should have been tripping over himself just to get me to smile at him. It wasn’t a complete loss ‘cause I got his number and he did kiss me before he left, but still. How the hell did he manage to resist me?”

Feliks shrugged, still tickled over the whole “cocky” bit. “I, like, don’t know. Maybe he’s just a super prude.”

“No, he’s not. He got really flustered and flattered when I flirted with him. It was just when I hinted at sex that he got offended. After I apologized, he agreed to go on a date with me.” Proudly, he showed them the number still written on the palm of his hand. “I’m going to call him today and see if he wants to go out tonight. I’ll actually be able to focus, since I won’t be hungry again until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Al?” Toris asked hesitantly. “We’re only here for the summer. What happens when we go home?”

Shit, he hadn’t thought about that. It was an excellent point—it wasn’t as though a date with Arthur could really go anywhere. He had, at most, three months with the Brit. That wasn’t enough time to build a relationship strong enough to become long-distance when Alfred went back to America in August.

_I can’t do that, anyway. I’d never be able to be faithful to him. Every few days, I’d have to cheat on him just to feed, and I don’t want that._

Just thinking about it, imagining how it would make him feel to lie to Arthur, to hide who he was, made him feel sick. In all his years as an incubus, he’d never been in any sort of relationship that lasted more than a few weeks. His partners never got to know him, and it didn’t take long for him to grow bored with them and move on.

“I…don’t know,” he admitted quietly, lowering his eyes to the floor. All his excitement about going on a date with Arthur seemed to drain from him. Silent, he looked at the slightly faded numbers on his palm. He wanted to call him, wanted to hear his voice and set up a time and place to meet for their date. But he didn’t know if that was a good idea anymore.

Sighing, the American picked himself up out of his chair and began moving towards the door to his bedroom.

“Are you, like, gonna call him?” Feliks called after the tall blond, and Al paused in the doorway.

“I don’t know if I should.” Then the door shut behind him and he locked himself in his room, needing to be alone to think. It was a fancy, elegant room, perfectly decorated and designed. He wasn’t at all surprised. Feliks refused to stay in any but the best hotels whenever the nymph travelled.

Al didn’t bother turning on the lights and threw himself onto the king-sized bed he was meant to enjoy for the summer. It was full and plush with lots of pillows and the blankets felt like silk. It was a fantastic bed for sex.

_Arthur would probably like this._

No, he shouldn’t think about that. The possibility that he would get the Brit back to the hotel and into his bed was slim. Besides, he didn’t want his only goal to be sleeping with him. Arthur was different from every other human he’d ever encountered and he wanted to know why.

_Call him. Go on a date. It doesn’t have to lead to sex. Just a date to get to know him. Call._

Lifting his hand, Alfred examined the numbers before forcing himself off the bed. His bags sat next to the wardrobe, waiting to be unpacked. Somewhere, in one of those bags, was the pre-paid phone he’d gotten specifically for this trip.

“Feliks!” he shouted, knowing the flamboyant nymph would hear.

“Yeah?”

“Where’d you pack my phone?”

“Front pocket on the smallest suitcase,” Toris’ voice responded, which probably meant that, while it was supposed to be Feliks’ job to pack the bags, the blond had convinced Toris to do it for him. He wasn’t even mildly surprised by the idea.

“Thanks!” As the brunet had said, Al found the phone in the front pocket of his smallest suitcase. It took a moment to turn on, but as soon as it was ready to go, he punched in the number on his hand and saved it under “Arthur Sexybritches.” The name made him chuckle and he imagined how red the Brit’s face would turn if he ever saw it or found out. That would be something worth seeing.

“I’m calling him!”

Cheers sounded from the living room and Alfred grinned, his excitement building again as he clicked the Call option.

X

_But I would walk five hundred miles_

_And I would walk five hundred more_

_Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles_

_To fall down at your door_

_Da lat da (Da lat da), da lat da (Da lat da)_

_Da-da-da dun-diddle un-diddle un-diddle uh da-da_

_Da lat da (Da lat da), da lat da (Da lat da)_

_Da-da-da dun-diddle un-diddle un-diddle uh da-da_

The book he’d been reading fell from his hands as Arthur all but sprang out of his chair and bolted towards the bedroom. He’d left his phone on the nightstand for some reason so he had to rush to get to it before it stopped ringing. That ringtone meant it was a new number, which meant it was probably Alfred.

“Hello?” he answered breathlessly, hoping he didn’t sound too nervous or excited or eager.

_“Hey there, Arthur. It’s Alfred.”_

A triumphant smile broke out on the green-eyed blond’s face, though he kept his voice calm and polite. “Good afternoon, Alfred.” He could hear the American chuckle on the other end of the line.

_“Your manners are perfect. So, I was wondering if you still wanted to go out sometime. We could grab some tea and get to know each other.”_

“Yes!” The Brit froze, realizing he sounded like a teenager going to a party, then cleared his throat. “I mean, that sounds fun. I’d love to.”

_“Cool. Is today all right? I can pick you up, if you want.”_

Today was perfect. Today was the only day. Arthur didn’t know if he could handle having to wait any longer than was absolutely necessary.

_I’m going mad._

“Yes, I’ll text you my address so you don’t forget it.”

_“Perfect. I’ll be there at, say, five? Then we can grab some dinner, too.”_

Tea and dinner with Alfred. “I’ll see you at five o’clock then, and don’t be late,” he added in a stern tone, though he was smiling.

_“I wouldn’t dream of it. See you in a few hours.”_

“Bye.” The line clicked and went dead, and Arthur spent several moments staring at his phone as his brain attempted to register what exactly had just happened. He was going on a date with Alfred. Today. At five. He was going on a date with Alfred. They were going to get tea and dinner and go on a _date_. His first date in months and it was with a god-like American.

Wait. Five o’clock. It was already past two! He had less than three hours to get ready!

Hurriedly, he typed his address and sent it to Alfred as a text so the American would know where to pick him up from, then tossed the phone onto his bed before going to the wardrobe. Shirts and pants of all colors and styles greeted him.

“What the bloody hell am I supposed to wear?”

Frowning, he began rifling through his clothes, eventually settling on a pair of dark brown trousers and a blue button-down shirt. It was a good color for him, and was casual enough for a relaxed date without being too relaxed. He added a black blazer in case it started raining again. But, of course, he had to shower before he could get dressed, so he left the clothes laid out neatly on his bed and went into the bathroom, humming happily.

X

“Is _that_ what you’re wearing?”

Alfred rolled his eyes as he picked his keys up off the coffee table. “Yes. Why?”

“Don’t you think you should wear something, like, nicer?” Feliks asked, green eyes looking the American over with disapproval.

“I look fine!”

“Totally not.”

He sighed and turned to face the shorter male. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

Hands on his hips, Feliks walked up to him and tugged on the collar of his shirt. “This is old and faded. Your jeans have a hole near your ankle, and would it, like, kill you to brush your hair?”

“Feliks, I’m going out for tea, not taking him to the opera.”

The nymph glared at him, on the verge of pouting. “You, like, have no idea how to go on a date!”

Alfred opened his mouth to argue but stopped. Slowly, he closed his mouth. It was true, he didn’t actually know what to do. This was the first time he’d had to be the one to ask someone out. He’d always been asked, and usually his “dates” ended with sex because he only went out when he was hungry. “Fine. You can redress me. But make it quick—I gotta pick him up in twenty minutes.”

Gleefully triumphant, Feliks’ pout transformed into a smile and he grabbed Alfred’s hand, dragging the taller man back into his bedroom. “Clothes off, Incubutt! I’ll have you looking totally hot in no time!”

He rolled his eyes but did as he was told, tossing the clothes that had been voted against into a nearby corner. “You’re lucky I don’t mind being your Ken doll.”

That got a giggle out of the smaller blond as he began looking through Alfred’s clothes. “And I totally appreciate it.” The first thing he picked out was a pair of darkwash jeans that fit just a little bit snugger than Alfred usually wore.

“Why these?”

“They make your ass look good. You want to seduce this guy, right?”

The American’s face flushed slightly. “Not really…it’s just tea and dinner…”

Feliks turned and gave him a knowing look. “Dinner for you means sex. Besides, you, like, already said you wanna make love to him.” He went back to looking through the clothes before Alfred could respond and ended up choosing a dark red button down shirt. “Leave the top two buttons open and roll the sleeves up to your elbows.”

Silently, Alfred did as he was told as Feliks watched closely to make sure he didn’t mess anything up. It only took about ten minutes, then the nymph dragged him into the bathroom and forced him to stand in front of the mirror while he brushed through his hair.

“It’s going to get messed up anyway,” Alfred informed him, but Feliks ignored the comment and continued what he was doing with a look of intense concentration. “Seriously, if you make me late, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Yes, you will.” The nymph giggled and placed a teasing kiss on Alfred’s cheek. “You forget that I, like, totally know all your turn-ons, incubus.”

A growl escaped the American and he glared at his reflection, though he didn’t argue because he knew Feliks was right—the smaller male had known him for a long, long time and was perfectly capable of arousing him at a moment’s notice, even now that he had Toris.

“There!” Satisfied, Feliks stepped back to admire his handiwork. “See, totally hot. I’d sleep with you, if I was him.”

“You’d sleep with me anyway.”

“Totally, but only if Toris gets to play, too.”

Feigning exasperation, Alfred sighed and rolled his eyes. “If he has to.”

Feliks giggled again and offered the incubus before him a flirty smile. “So, if you’re hungry when you get back…”

“Then I’ll use the two of you for a feast. Are you done dressing me? I need to go so I can be on time.”

“You’re as good as you’re going to get.” Dropping the flirtatious attitude, he placed a caring hand on Alfred’s shoulder and smiled. “Good luck. I know he’ll totally love you.”

“Thanks, Liks.” Alfred flashed a slightly nervous grin before retrieving his keys and leaving the hotel suite. With any luck at all, he would manage to get in Arthur’s good graces by dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

He couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t.

_No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine. I can do this._

Losing his nerve for about the fifteenth time, Arthur turned to go back into his apartment but forced himself to stop. This was no time to turn into a bleeding coward. A deep breath helped to soothe his nerves, then he turned and leaned against the railing of the stairs leading to his front door. He tried to keep a small, calm smile in place, but he was so self-conscious that it kept slipping into a worried frown or a smile that might come off as a little bit mad.

_Relax, will you? It’s not that big of a deal._

How was he supposed to relax, though? Alfred was coming to pick him up and they were going on a date. His mind was still reeling from it even though he’d been getting ready for the last two-and-a-half hours. By all rights, it shouldn’t have taken him nearly as long as it did, but he’d purposefully drawn out his bath in the hopes that hot water would calm him down. It hadn’t worked, so he’d resorted to lighting candles and having a cup of tea, so he’d spent a good twenty minutes doing that. Combined with the bath, he’d used up at least an hour-and-a-half before he even started to get dressed. And then, despite having picked out his clothes beforehand, he’d second-guessed himself and changed more times than he cared to count just to end up in the original outfit he’d chosen.

Now, dressed with his hair combed neatly and his blazer folded over his arm, he was standing on his front steps to wait for Alfred to arrive. He wasn’t sure how the American intended to “pick him up,” because he hadn’t seemed to own a car when they’d met the night before, but if Alfred had a means of transportation, then Arthur wasn’t going to argue. Personally, his only means of transportation was a bike that rarely made it outside.

Foot tapping nervously, he glanced at his watch and the nervous smile reappeared on his pale face—Alfred would be there any minute.

_This is a terrible idea. He’s going to think I’m boring just like everyone else. I should call him and tell him something came up._

Hesitantly, Arthur pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened a new message, but his fingers refused to type the words. He just couldn’t bring himself to cancel, not when it was so close to five o’clock. It was too late to call Alfred and tell him not to come.

The phone was slowly put back into his pocket, then Arthur took another deep breath and shook himself a little. He was fine. He could do this.

Just then, a dull roar reached his ears and Arthur looked towards the corner, his interest caught. What on earth was that? His question was answered only a few seconds later when a large, dangerous-looking machine came around the corner and sped towards him down the street.

 _Bloody hell! That_ can’t _be Alfred!_

To his horror, the bike slowed as it drew near, curving towards the curb, then came to a halt; the man astride it stopped the engine and straightened before removing his helmet. Sure enough, sitting astride that bike as if it was a throne and he was the king of the world, Alfred shook out his ash blond hair and grinned at Arthur.

“Hey.” He paused, blue eyes examining the Brit. “You look great.”

Arthur blushed lightly. “Thank you.” It was all he could manage to say. He was too busy staring at the bike Alfred was straddling so comfortably. His limbs felt stiff and heavy and he didn’t think he could have taken a step closer to the American if his life depended on it.

“You okay?” Alfred asked, frowning in concern. Hanging his helmet on one of the bike’s handlebars, he used his foot to release a kick stand and got off the bike, letting it lean heavily on the stand as he came up the stairs to where Arthur was still frozen. “Arthur?”

Green eyes flickered towards him before going back to the bike. Even still and abandoned by its rider, the machine was menacing; he swallowed thickly.

“Are we…riding that?” he asked quietly, and Alfred nodded enthusiastically.

“Sure are!” His grin dazzled Arthur for a moment and he looked at the motorcycle with obvious pride. “Harley Davidson Sportster 1200, custom made for yours truly.”

Yes, the bike was obviously custom made. There was something about it that, while Arthur was terrified of the thought of actually riding it, fit Alfred as if he was meant to drive that bike and nothing else. And the paint job was obviously just as American as Alfred himself. Red and white stripes, star-spangled blue and even the screeching head of a bald eagle decorated the bike.

“It’s…lovely,” he commented, forcing a small smile.

“Come on!” His excitement getting the better of him, Alfred took hold of the Brit’s hand and pulled him down the last few steps until they were both standing on the curb; Arthur’s face turned a deep red and he looked down at the black leather-clad hand wrapped firmly around his own.

_He’s holding my hand._

“Oh! Almost forgot!” With an embarrassed laugh, Alfred reached out, took the helmet off the handlebar and held it out to Arthur. “I only have one helmet,” he said apologetically, and Arthur accepted the helmet with a nervous smile. With Alfred’s help, he managed to put it on and settle it comfortably around his skull. Then Alfred, in a movement so easy that it was obvious he’d done it countless times, swung a leg over the bike and straightened it—the kickstand sprang back into place.

“Come on, Artie,” he said, holding a hand out to the Brit.

Nervous, Arthur put on his blazer so as not to lose it then placed his hand into Alfred’s and carefully climbed onto the bike, taking his place behind the American as the leather seat creaked under their combined weight. It was strange but not uncomfortable, and he found that he didn’t mind being so close to Alfred. The American smelled like leather and some sort of spicy cologne.

“Wrap your arms around me,” Alfred commanded gently, patting his side to show where, then he pointed to a spot behind Arthur’s leg, “and prop your feet up on those little braces.”

Arthur obediently did as he was told, holding onto the bike and Alfred as tightly as he could without hurting the man sitting in front of him.

The American looked over his shoulder, grinning when he met Arthur’s nervous gaze; the green of his eyes was visible even through the tinted visor. “Ready?”

“I-I guess,” the Briton forced out, and Alfred’s grinned widened.

“Hold on tight!” Then he brought the motorcycle to life, rumbling like a beast as it vibrated beneath them. The sensation sent tingles up Arthur’s spine and he bit his lip to stifle a quiet moan that probably wouldn’t have been audible over the bike’s engine, anyway. But he still didn’t want to give off any signs that the bike was actually turning him on a little. It was just a bike, after all. He didn’t have a chance to think of anything else before Alfred revved the engine and set off down the street.

_I’m going to die oh my God!_

Why didn’t this thing have a seatbelt?! It was dangerous and bloody stupid to put this big of a machine on the road without seatbelts! The wind pulled at his clothes as if trying to strip him naked and he could feel himself starting to slide backwards; his arms tightened around Alfred as he pulled himself back into the proper position.

“You okay?” The wind nearly stole Alfred’s words away before Arthur could hear them.

“F-fine!” he shouted back, face tucked into the American’s shoulder to keep from being buffeted by the wind.

“Lean with me!”

It took him a moment to understand what that meant, but when Alfred turned the bike around a corner, Arthur felt himself being pulled to the outside and clung to the larger male even tighter, following his movements so he wouldn’t cause them to crash. And, as terrified as he was of the bike, it only took him a few moments of having his eyes shut tight with his helmeted head buried in Alfred’s back for him to start to calm down. The torso his arms were around was sturdy, Alfred rode the bike with confidence and ease, and the machine between his legs ran like it was brand new.

 _Okay…maybe it’s not so bad,_ he told himself, opening one eye enough to watch buildings pass by on their left. They weren’t going that fast, only twenty-five miles or so, and he felt safe enough after realizing that to sit up a little straighter and actually look around. Already, they were several blocks from his apartment, heading towards a small business district where they could stop for tea and grab dinner on the same street. He knew the area fairly well—it was a good place to go on a first date.

_At least he knows what he’s doing._

Several minutes later, Alfred turned the motorcycle onto the street and came to a stop after rolling into an empty parking space. Most of the street was full of pedestrians, and all the shops were close enough to walk to within a few minutes, so there was little sense in trying to take the bike all the way to the shop he wanted to visit.

“You can let go now,” he said, grinning over his shoulder again. Not that he minded that Arthur hadn’t released his hold on the American’s waist, but he did need the Brit to let go if they were going to get up.

Slowly, Arthur took his hands from where he’d locked them together around Alfred’s middle and shakily got up, his knees just a little wobbly. He took a few stumbling steps away from the motorcycle as he struggled to remove the helmet; hands covered his own and he froze.

“Let me.” With a gentle tug, Alfred easily removed the helmet and tucked it under his arm. “How was the ride?”

Free of the helmet, the smaller blond patted at his hair self-consciously, hoping it wasn’t mussed from wearing the helmet. Only once he was satisfied that it was still presentable did he look up and meet Alfred’s gaze.

“It was interesting, to say the least.”

“You didn’t seem like you’d ever been on a bike before,” the American commented as the two began making their way down the street.

“I hadn’t.”

Of course not. “Well, maybe that won’t be the only thing I get to introduce you to,” he responded in a slightly flirtatious tone, resisting the urge to wink and slip his arm around the Brit’s waist to pull him close. Those tactics, the ones he relied on for food, had already failed him once and he wasn’t about to be rejected again in front of all these people. That, and he didn’t want to simply seduce Arthur. Just looking at those green eyes, so much brighter during the day than they’d been in the bar last night, made him want to win the Brit over in every way he could manage.

Arthur blushed at the implication in Alfred’s tone, gaze downturned in a shy manner that Alfred found to be adorable. “Maybe.”

_Who is this guy?_

All it took was that shy response and he wanted to pull the smaller man into a hug, lift him off his feet and spin him around in a circle, then set him down again and kiss him while he was still breathless. In his head, it was a great idea and Alfred found himself grinning just imagining it.

But he tucked his hands safely into his pockets as he walked beside the shorter blond with a lazy grin fixed in place. He wanted to put his arm around the Brit’s shoulder or hold his hand—he’d given in for a moment by pulling the older man down the steps of his apartment—but he knew he shouldn’t do either of those, not on the first date. Besides, he’d already gotten Arthur onto a motorcycle. It was probably best not to push it, at least for today.

Quiet, Alfred led the way to small tea shop that was tucked between two larger buildings. A bell jingled above the door as they entered, and Alfred looked around curiously, still smiling.

“Nice place.”

Arthur nodded in agreement. It was a cozy little shop, with small tables where two or three or even just one person could sit and enjoy their tea or whatnot, read a book or watch the people walk by outside. There was a small sign that read, “Please Seat Yourselves” just inside the door, so Alfred chose a table near the front windows where they’d be able to look outside if they wanted to. Smiling, he pulled a chair out for Arthur and pushed it in for him as the Brit sat.

“Thank you,” Arthur said, looking a little surprised at the American’s manners.

Alfred grinned as he settled into the other chair across the table from the golden blond. “Come on, you didn’t think I was gonna be bad at this whole date thing, did you? Cut me some slack.”

The Brit blushed lightly and looked down at the white tablecloth. “No, I didn’t think that.” He didn’t voice the fact that he was positive Alfred was going to be nothing short of a god during this date and that he, Arthur, would in fact be the one to mess things up.

“So, what would you like to talk about?” Alfred asked, resting his forearms on the table as he smiled at the shorter blond.

“Oh, um,” green eyes darted around the café as Arthur searched desperately for something to talk about, something other than his boring job or boring hobbies, “well, why don’t you tell me about your experiences here in London so far?”

_Well, I had sex with a complete stranger last night and I met you and that’s about it. She was drunk and probably doesn’t even remember my name but I’m used to that. Food is food, you know? And I mean, she instigated it so I’m not gonna feel bad about a one-night stand._

Yeah, that was exactly what he wanted to say to Arthur. Perfect. He’d end up with a fork in his forehead and an angry Brit storming out of the shop, slamming the door on his way. No way in hell was he saying any of that.

“Eh, you know. Met a cute guy, scored his number, goin’ on a date. Pretty excited about it.”

Arthur’s face was practically flaming. Cute? Excited? “O-oh? How d’you think it’s going?”

The American grinned, looking down at the tabletop so that he could peer at Arthur over his glasses and through his bangs. “Pretty well, actually. I think he likes me.”

That made Arthur’s blush darken even more and he looked away from those amazing eyes, fiddling with how his silverware were arranged on his napkin. Was he really that transparent that Alfred could already tell how very attracted he was to the tourist? He was usually so cold and detached from his feelings that being flirted with so blatantly was a little unnerving. Yet Alfred was flawless in his flirtation.

“Do you, now?” he asked, trying to play a bit coy because he really had too much pride to give in so easily, especially to someone he’d just met.

“Yeah, I mean, he agreed to go out with me, so that’s gotta mean _somethin’_ ,” Alfred pointed out, “and I think he trusts me already.”

Now Arthur placed his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together, letting his chin rest on them. He couldn’t help but smirk just slightly at the game they’d started to play. “Why do you think that?”

“I got ‘im on my bike.”

“And you think that means he likes you.”

“Yep. Gettin’ a guy on your bike is a pretty big deal.” With a self-congratulatory grin, Alfred leaned back in his chair with his hands locked behind his head. “I got a feelin’ this guy’s gonna be different from the rest, and I think I like that.”

The word made Arthur’s heart skip a beat—he was different? “How so?”

How to put this in a way that wouldn’t be offensive to the polite Briton sitting across the table. Blue eyes examined Arthur’s face, noting how one eyebrow was lifted just slightly to compliment his smirk, how his expression was calm and relaxed despite the faint blush that still lingered around the pale man’s neck.

“Well, for starters, he’s the first guy to ever lecture me about being cocky.”

Arthur groaned internally, remembering once again how completely unlike himself he’d been in the pub last night. It was completely unlike him to accuse anyone, much less a stranger, of being “cocky,” especially over something so small and harmless as flirting. “Is that all?”

“He’s also the best-looking man I’ve ever met, and he seems pretty smart, and accents are sexy so that’s always a plus,” Alfred listed off the traits as if he’d actually taken the time to think about why he liked Arthur. He pretended not to notice the way the smaller man blushed, choosing instead to smile widely because it really was adorable to see the smaller man all flustered.

 _Kiss him,_ his brain urged, but he ignored that because he wasn’t hungry and he wasn’t going to make a total ass of himself when he was just finally starting to really make a good impression on Arthur.

“Good luck with him, then. I’m sure he won’t be able to resist you.”

The compliment made Alfred grin. “That’s what I’m hoping.”

This whole “date” business was already going just as well has he’d dared to hope.


	4. Chapter 4

Still grinning, Alfred shifted in his chair and stretched his arms out over his head, leaning back a little; he knew full well that his shirt would complement the body beneath it. It didn’t escape his notice that Arthur’s eyes slowly lifted to look him up and down or how the Brit swallowed as if trying to come up with something to say or like he was trying to hold something back—mission accomplished. The American let out a contented sigh and relaxed.

“All right, your turn. What were you doing in that pub last night, all by yourself?” His eyes rested on the Brit’s face as he methodically pulled on the fingers of his gloves to remove them then tucked them into his jacket pocket. 

Ah, not a question he particularly wanted to answer. Arthur tore his gaze from that handsome face, shoving back the thoughts that had invaded his mind after watching the tourist stretch. “Having a drink. What did it look like I was doing?” he asked as casually as he could, his head tilting to one side just slightly as his eyes locked onto the white tablecloth.

“Well, you looked kinda lonely.”

Brilliant. He’d caught the American’s eye because he looked like a lonely drunk sitting in a pub on a Friday night who could use some company. No wonder the tall blond had come to talk to him. “I wasn’t lonely. I simply enjoy the peaceful quiet of having a drink on my own once in a while.”

Alfred shrugged, his easy grin unfaltering. “My mistake, then. I’m glad I decided to talk to you, anyway.”

“You mean hit on me,” Arthur corrected, giving the taller man a knowing look. To his delight, an embarrassed smile replaced the taller man’s confident expression.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I really didn’t mean to come off as rude.”

Arthur returned the smile before looking down at the table again, fidgeting. “And I didn’t mean to come off sounding like a stuffy old git.”

“No, no, you were right to be offended. I crossed a line and I’m glad you decided to give me a second chance, anyway,” Alfred assured him, leaning forward to reach across the table and place his hand over Arthur’s. Immediately, Arthur felt himself growing warmer and he couldn’t resist the urge to look at the tanned, rough-palmed hand that was suddenly holding his own.

_He’s holding my hand again. Why is he holding my hand?_

It made him nervous and he felt too warm but at the same time he couldn’t help but feel relaxed and comforted by the gesture, as if this blue-eyed man was literally making him feel better about their interactions the night before. But that, of course, was impossible. He probably only felt that way because the American’s hand was warm and large enough to nearly cover his own hand, which was obviously more delicate and significantly paler than the tourist’s. That, and Alfred’s palm was calloused but not in an abrasive way so his grip felt strong and firm. Arthur had the irrational feeling that this man could handle just about anything and never lose that movie star grin.

Swallowing thickly, the Brit forced his eyes away from their still-touching hands and looked Alfred in the eyes. He nearly swooned on the spot to find those eyes staring at him so intently, the clearest blue he’d ever seen. Part of him wanted to hide from the American’s gaze, felt exposed and vulnerable as if the man possessed the ability to see right through him. Another part brought an instinctive blush to his face and he smiled nervously though he couldn’t bring himself to look away. The rest of him, well, the rest of him wanted to lean forward like Alfred was and kiss him right there. It was the same impulsive feeling that had caused him to kiss the American in the pub last night, but he ignored it to the best of his ability now. They were sitting in a tea shop on a rare sunny afternoon, after all, not a dim pub on a Friday night.

“Do it.”

The words barely registered in Arthur’s mind and he blinked slowly, still frozen. “What?”

“I can tell you want to, Artie. I want you to, too. You can do it. It won’t hurt anything,” Alfred promised, his voice low and soft, soothing, making Arthur feel like absolutely nothing could be wrong with the world in that moment.

“I don’t…” the Briton began, but his voice faded out before he could finish telling Alfred that he didn’t know what the bespectacled man was talking about. He barely registered the fact that he was leaning forward just a little and slowly moving closer, his hand moving so that his fingers were laced through the taller man’s. Alfred smiled, blue eyes unchanging as Arthur got closer and closer until the green-eyed man was on the edge of his seat and leaning over the table. They were less than an inch away now, able to feel each other’s breath as they stared.

“Alfred.” The name came out on a sigh and Arthur’s hand tightened slightly. The American smiled a little more.

“Kiss me,” he whispered beseechingly, and then Arthur leaned forward until the gap that had existed between them was gone. Neither man missed its presence as they became completely absorbed in the kiss and each other. Green eyes fell shut and were shortly followed by blue as the simple act of lips touching turned into more than that, turned into lips moving together and breaths mingling as tongues that were too shy to investigate further than little tastes danced against lips. Their hands gripped each other tightly out of the desperation to be closer to each other, trying to make up for the fact that there was a table in the way.

It was mind-numbing and Arthur didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know when he’d decided to kiss the American like this in public but knew that it was the only thing he wanted. And yet it wasn’t enough somehow because of that damn table being in the way and he just wanted to be closer, wanted to lose himself in those blue eyes and that charming smile and those strong hands and the perfect body that shouldn’t have existed but did. He wanted to lose himself in everything that was Alfred.

 _Need more,_ his mind whispered, and he was mere seconds away from letting out a pitiful sounding whine when someone cleared their throat in an obviously irritated fashion. The sound broke through the haze his mind had so quickly become lost in and he jerked, sitting back in his chair as his eyes went wide. He was panting lightly, face flushed as he stared at Alfred in shock. Also out of breath, the American stared back at him with an expression that was confused and apologetic but also wanting in a way that made Arthur feel extremely self-conscious. What the bloody hell had he been thinking, kissing the man like that in a tea shop?

“If the two of you are quite finished,” someone spoke up, and both men turned to see a waitress standing by their table, a notepad in one hand while the other rested on her hip. She was giving them a look of strong disapproval and seemed like she wanted to ask them to leave but was holding back.

“I’m very sorry,” Arthur spoke up first, offering the woman an embarrassed smile. “That was rude of us. It won’t happen again.”

She didn’t look like she believed him, but after a moment she sighed. “See that it won’t, please. Now, what can I get for you gentlemen today?”

Relief flooded him and Arthur relaxed in his chair. “Black tea with milk and one spoon of sugar, please.”

“Coffee, black,” Alfred told her once she’d written down Arthur’s order and turned to the American.

“I’ll have those for you in just a moment.” Then she turned and walked away towards the kitchen. Arthur watched her go, his eyes glued to her back in order to keep himself from looking at Alfred, from seeing those damn eyes and that blasted smile. What was it about this man, this bloody tourist that had him acting like the complete opposite of himself?

“Arthur.”

“Shut it.”

“What?”

Turning, Arthur scowled at the man sitting across from him, his arms folded over his chest. “I don’t want to hear it, Alfred. Whatever excuse you’ve conjured up for doing that in broad daylight and in public, I don’t care. Let’s just enjoy our drinks and leave before we get thrown out, all right?”

Alfred was quiet for a moment as he regarded the Brit. Then he nodded and looked out the window, leaning back in his chair with his hands in his lap. He looked upset and a little guilty, which Arthur thought was entirely the way it should be.

_What was he thinking, kissing me like that? We’re in public, for Christ’s sake! And we barely know each other!_

He didn’t think about the fact that he’d wanted to kiss the American just as badly as Alfred had said, and he certainly didn’t want to try to figure out how Alfred had known what he was thinking. It didn’t matter, anyway. All that mattered was that he’d somehow ended up practically snogging someone who was barely more than a stranger, in a tea shop on a Saturday afternoon. Even worse, he’d been caught by a waitress and could have been thrown out of the shop for it.

_Well…it’s definitely the most interesting date I’ve ever been on._

That wasn’t something he could deny, and the longer he sat there watching Alfred stare out the window, the more he felt he’d been a little hard on the younger man. He’d been the one to close that gap, after all; a sigh escaped him.

“Alfred.”

Blue eyes turned to him, though they weren’t as bright as before. “Hm?”

Arthur hesitated before taking a slightly deeper breath than normal. Then he smiled. “I’m sorry. I keep doing this to you. What happened wasn’t your fault and I’m sorry for blaming you the way I did.”

The American smiled just slightly. “It’s all right. I did get carried away.”

“Yes, but so did I.”

Uneasy smiles were exchanged as they regarded each other. Well, at least he’d managed to admit to being wrong, and the dimness that had leaked into Alfred’s eyes was already starting to fade.

_Good. I don’t want him upset because of me._

They had yet to say anything more when the waitress returned with their drinks, which they thanked her for in a properly embarrassed way. The quiet continued and Arthur sipped his tea in order to give himself something to do. He watched the other man over the rim of his cup, his curiosity about him growing. Everything about Alfred fascinated him and, despite having taken several drinks of his tea, he could still taste the American when he licked his lips. It was a pleasant taste, refreshing and warm and minty so he knew the taller man had brushed his teeth before coming to pick him up.

 _How cute,_ he thought with a small smile. Gently, he placed his cup back on its saucer, the china clinking ever so softly when it touched.

“Where are you from, Alfred?” The question was light and curious, designed to start up conversation because Arthur was growing bored with the silence. He watched as Alfred swallowed a mouthful of his coffee—how could he drink that rubbish?—and slowly set down his mug.

“I’m from America, o’course.” A playful grin appeared on his face and Arthur fought back a scowl, settling for pursing his lips and raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, but where in America?”

Alfred shrugged. “I’ve lived all over. Where do you think I’m from?”

Unwilling to answer and be wrong, Arthur shook his head as he smiled slightly. “I’m not guessing. Your accent is American but I can’t place it.”

The blue-eyed man grinned and laid one arm on the table, leaning forward. “You like my accent, Artie?”

The playful, teasing tone made Arthur’s ears turn red, though he refused to show any other sign of his reaction.

“I might, if I knew what sort of accent it was,” the Brit countered, sitting back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other as he picked up his cup and took another drink of his tea.

“It’s American.”

_Frustrating wanker!_

Arthur rolled his eyes. “There’s no need to be difficult, Alfred. It’s a simple question. Aren’t we supposed to be getting to know each other? We’re on our first date, after all.”

Blue and green eyes met as the two regarded each other, waiting for the next move of the game to be made.

“I was born near Boston, on a small farm,” Alfred finally conceded. “I worked there with my father until I was eighteen. I had odd jobs for a few years before I met Feliks. He’s a fashion designer and hired me to be a male model. I’ve been doing that ever since.”

_A model. Of course._

It made so much sense that Arthur was almost embarrassed he hadn’t thought of it himself. Of course this perfect man was a model. What else would he be? And growing up working on a farm—little wonder his palms were calloused and he was so muscular.

_I’m on a date with an American model. I kissed an American model._

How had he ever managed to catch this man’s eye?

“Don’t go all quiet on me, now,” Alfred said, trying to smile as Arthur continued to stare at him.

The green-eyed man blinked. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m really not surprised, and I’m trying to figure out why a man like you would be interested in someone like me,” he admitted, looking into his tea as if the brown liquid could give him the answer.

“Someone like you?” Alfred repeated, a confused frown appearing on his handsome face. “Why wouldn’t I be interested in you?”

Arthur shrugged, silent. There were so many reasons why Alfred shouldn’t be interested in him that Arthur felt like he might choke on them if he tried to speak. How many negative attributes had been thrown at him over the years? Cold, distant, stubborn, old-fashioned, stingy, boring, coward. He was too quiet, too set in his ways. He was plain and unattractive and too temperamental for anyone to put up with him.

_Ugly. That’s the word they use. I’m ugly inside and out because I have a temper and I’m too pale, too skinny and…_

He had to make a conscious effort not to lift a hand and cover his forehead.

_Bushy brows. Caterpillars. Disgusting. Unhygienic. Why didn’t he pluck them? He might be handsome, then._

The memories put a bitter taste in his mouth and he took a drink of his tea to try to wash it away. It was then that he realized how long it had been since Alfred asked the question that he had yet to answer.

“I, uh, have been told unpleasant things about myself,” he mumbled quietly, feeling extra self-conscious about his appearance and personality. God, he wanted to prove them all wrong, wanted to show them that Arthur Kirkland was everything but the labels that had been attached to him. But what if he couldn’t do it? What if Alfred developed the same opinion as the others before him?

The thought almost crushed him, made him want to go home and wrap himself in a big fluffy blanket and never come out again.

“Hey,” he looked up to see a reassuring smile on Alfred’s face, “I don’t care what anyone has said or will ever say about you or to you. I don’t care. I barely know you, and I already know that whatever ‘unpleasant things’ you’ve been told are wrong. Whoever said them is wrong about you, Arthur.”

Speechless, the Brit stared back at him for several moments before he couldn’t help it anymore. A smile broke out over his face and he knew he would have hugged the American had they not been seated across from each other the way they were. There were even tears beginning to form under his eyes, though he held them back with everything he had. Now was not the time to start crying, especially not in front of Alfred in the middle of a tea shop.

“Thank you,” he murmured, and the American nodded slightly, smile unwavering. To cover up how emotional he’d become, Arthur finished off his tea and began searching his pockets for his wallet. “So, ah, where did you want to go for dinner?” Before he could take out enough money to pay for his tea, Alfred placed several notes on the table top, separating it into two piles.

“I’m buying,” he stated firmly upon seeing Arthur’s confused expression. “We’re on a date, after all.” That earned a blush and nod from the Briton.

“What about that?” Arthur asked, indicating the other pile.

Alfred grinned as he tucked his wallet back into his jeans pocket and stood. “A tip for the waitress, as both an apology for what happened and a thank you that she didn’t throw us out.”

“Oh.” He’d almost completely forgotten about that already, which was surprising because he usually held onto his embarrassment and anger for days. This time, he’d only managed to stay upset for about five minutes.

 _What is it about this man that makes him affect me so much?_ the paler blond wondered, following Alfred out of the tea shop and down the street. On an impulse, he quickened his pace to walk beside the American and slipped his arm through Alfred’s. He kept his gaze straight forward, though he knew he was blushing and that Alfred had looked at him in surprise. Still, he didn’t pull his arm back or give himself the chance to regret doing it.

“Where are we going for dinner?” he asked after a few moments had passed, glancing up at the American to find that a rather smug smile had appeared on Alfred’s face.

“There’s a restaurant near the river I wanna try. I thought it would be nice if we could watch the sunset while we ate.”

_A sunset over the river? So he’s a romantic._

He’d never had much patience for romance—it always got him embarrassed and flustered—though after how interesting tea had been, he definitely wanted to see how dinner would go whether it was romantic or not.

Tightening his grip on Alfred’s arm just slightly, Arthur smiled. “Sounds lovely.”


	5. Chapter 5

The American had chosen a fancier restaurant than Arthur was expecting, though he told himself not to be surprised and remained silent, still with his arm linked through the taller man’s. A handsome young man standing at a small podium smiled at them as soon as they walked in the door. He had dark, neatly combed hair and a nice smile, was almost as tall as Alfred and not quite as broad in the shoulder.

“Hello, table for two?”

“We have a reservation, actually,” Alfred replied, his own comfortable grin in place as he interacted with the greeter. “Six o’clock for Jones.”

It only took the greeter a moment to locate Alfred’s last name on the list and his smile grew slightly. “We have the perfect table for you, Mister Jones.” Gesturing for them to follow, he picked up two menus and abandoned the podium.

He led them deeper into the restaurant, past the main seating area to a dimmer section that consisted of smaller tables and booths. There were bouquets and candles set out as the centerpieces and Arthur felt his face grow warm—it was a bit on the romantic side, as he’d suspected it might be. Just like in the tea shop, Alfred pulled his chair out for him before taking his own seat.

The greeter handed them each a menu. “Your waitress for this evening will be here shortly to take your drink orders. Have a lovely evening, gentlemen.”

“Thank you,” Arthur responded, speaking quietly with his eyes lowered. Still, he didn’t miss how the young man flashed a smile at Alfred before walking away from their table. The greeter really was very good looking, definitely the type to work in an elegant restaurant like this one. It made Arthur feel a bit self-conscious and he discreetly made sure that his shirt was straight and tucked in, that his cuffs hadn’t been twisted. Did he still look all right? Had the helmet messed up his hair? No, Alfred would have told him so he could fix it. He looked fine. He was okay.

“You’re getting quiet again.”

Arthur blushed lightly, embarrassed to have been caught examining himself. “Sorry.”

“Is something wrong?” Alfred asked with genuine concern.

Glancing up, Arthur saw the blue-eyed man watching him with a small, worried frown; he forced a bright smile. “I’m fine.” Despite his assurance and smile, Alfred didn’t look like he believed the Brit, and Arthur quickly picked up his menu. “What are you ordering?”

Still frowning a little, Alfred picked up his own menu and scanned it. “I’m not sure—I’ve never been here before.”

“Neither have I.”

They were quiet as they tried to decide, though Arthur was only partially focused on his menu. His thoughts kept wandering back to the greeter. Had Alfred looked at him? Stupid question. Of course he’d looked. Why shouldn’t he? He was fairly attractive, even handsome. There was no reason for Alfred not to look.

“Hello, gentlemen,” a polite voice sounded from beside their table, and both men looked up to see a young woman standing there. She wore a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled back to her elbows and black dress pants with a classic black half-apron tied around her waist.

“Hi,” Alfred greeted her with a movie star smile spreading across his face. The woman stared for a moment before offering her own shyer smile.

“Do you know what you would like to drink this evening, sir?”

The flirtatious tone she used made Arthur scowl and he found himself glad that she wasn’t looking at him. All of her attention was focused on Alfred and she’d shifted her weight onto one leg so that her hip stuck out. And Alfred was smiling at her with those brilliant blue eyes and perfectly tousled hair—no wonder she’d so quickly decided to pay attention to the American and more or less ignore Arthur. It made him feel hot under the collar and he slouched down in his chair ever so slightly, directing his gaze to the tabletop.

“Actually,” Alfred began, turning those damn eyes on Arthur, “you’ll have to ask him.”

Green eyes widened in surprise and Arthur stared at the taller blond, silently asking him just what the hell he thought he was doing. Unfortunately, the waitress was turning to face him so he quickly sat up in his chair and did his best to smile.

“What can I get for you?” Her tone was completely different as she stared at Arthur, her expression neutral. All the flirtiness she’d been displaying mere seconds ago was gone and she looked bored and a little bit grudging now that Alfred had forced her to pay attention to Arthur.

“Apple cider for me, please.” Then he looked at Alfred and smiled. “Just water for him. He’s driving us home.” His attention went back to the waitress in time to see the look in her eyes at the word “home.” She scrutinized him as if trying to figure out why on earth _he_ was there with Alfred, what was so special about him that he’d managed to snare the American’s interest. It gave him a vicious sense of pleasure to know that he was the one on a date with the American, rather than her.

“I’ll have those right out for you.” Her back was stiff as she turned and walked away, and Arthur couldn’t help but smirk a little as he watched her vanish around a corner.

“She was something, huh,” Alfred commented, and Arthur turned to find amused blue eyes trained on him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied lightly, though he was still smiling a little.

Alfred grinned. “You handled that really well, Artie,” the American’s tone turned teasing, “even though you did get jealous when she flirted with me.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” the Brit protested, his cheeks heating slightly.

“Yeah, you were.” Alfred smirked and leaned partway across the table. “I know how we can fix that, though.”

“And how exactly do you intend to ‘fix’ my jealousy? Which, by the way, is ridiculous because I _wasn’t_ jealous.”

“Well,” Alfred looked down at the table for a moment before looking up at Arthur through his bangs with a gentle smile. “We could always kiss in front of this waitress, too.”

Instantly, Arthur flushed a dark red and looked down at his hands in his lap. “Why on earth would we do that?” he asked quietly, embarrassed to have been reminded of his lapse of self control while they’d been in the tea shop.

“So she’d know I’m only interested in you.”

_I’m only interested in you._

The words echoed in his head and Arthur felt dizzy for a moment. Alfred was interested in _him_ , after the handsome greeter flashing him that smile, and the waitress flirting with him so openly, somehow, Arthur had managed to keep the American all to himself. 

“You git,” he muttered, though he was smiling and wouldn’t have been able to stop even if he’d wanted to, “you’ll get us kicked out before we even get our food, saying things like that.”

“So you don’t want to kiss me?”

“I didn’t say that.” He refused to look at him, refused to see that smile and meet those blue eyes, see the want in them because he knew it would be there, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist. Just like in the tea shop, he wouldn’t even have the chance to think about what he was doing. It would just happen, and Arthur wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. Yes, Alfred was handsome, gorgeous—he’d even be willing to use the term “inhuman beauty”—but that was no reason to kiss the man in a tea shop and then a restaurant the day after meeting the American.

To his surprise, Alfred chose not to comment on that and Arthur took the opportunity to look at his menu again in order to decide what to order.

“I think I’ll have the dumplings,” he said after a moment, finally daring to look up at the American.

Alfred found the meal on his own menu. “Are you choosing that ‘cause it’s good or ‘cause it’s one of the cheapest things on the menu?”

The green-eyed man almost scoffed because nothing on this menu was cheap, though he resisted. “I’m not going to pick the most expensive option.”

“Why not?”

The question took him off-guard and Arthur stared at the American sitting across from him. “Because I’m sure you’ll insist on paying for me again and I’m not going to be a git and run up the bill.”

“Arthur.” A serious yet somehow amused expression appeared on Alfred’s face. “Order whatever you want. Don’t even look at the prices.”

Reluctant, the smaller male examined his counterpart. “Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

Wow. This was a situation that Arthur had never been in before. Order whatever he wanted without even bothering to look at what things cost? Alfred was either extremely generous or extremely wealthy.

_Idiot. He’s a male model vacationing in London for the summer. Of course he has enough money to get a reservation at a nice restaurant and buy whatever meal he wants._

So it really didn’t matter if he picked the most expensive item on the menu, but Arthur didn’t think he could bring himself to do that even if he had a hundred percent guarantee that it would be the best meal he’d ever have in his entire life. It just wasn’t in his character to make a decision without considering all the aspects, and in this case, that meant the cost. But he didn’t want to annoy Alfred by seeming stingy, so he forced his green eyes to ignore the small printed numbers as he perused the menu for a second time.

There were a few dozen options to choose from, though most weren’t suitable for dinner on a Saturday. It took him several moments to decide what to order since Alfred had vetoed his original choice.

“Roast pork with apple sauce,” he announced, though he was careful not to raise his voice since this dim area made him feel as though he would be scolded if he made too much noise.

His own menu open in his hands, Alfred stared back at the Briton, his face blank.

“What?” Arthur asked, feeling self-conscious again.

“You eat apple sauce with roast pork?” the American asked in disbelief.

“Yes, of course.”

Alfred blinked, starting to look mildly disgusted. “Dude, that’s…weird.”

Indignant, Arthur sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“How do you eat your applesauce, then?” the Brit demanded, and Alfred shrugged.

“Usually out of a little plastic cup as a snack or something during the summer, but not with roast pork.”

_Right. American and British cuisine aren’t the same thing._

Doing his best to drop the slight irritation he was beginning to feel, Arthur took a deep breath. “It’s a little bit different than the apple sauce you have in America, Alfred. Here, it’s very common to eat apple sauce with roasted pork.”

“Really?”

Arthur nodded and a thoughtful look replaced Alfred’s confused one. “Hm.”

It actually gave him a small sense of pride to know that he was more knowledgeable than Alfred about something, even though it was only about the food he’d grown up with. Of course the American didn’t know that apple sauce was a common condiment for roast pork. “Have you decided on what you want?”

A grin spread over the American’s face and he set down his menu. “Nope.”

One of Arthur’s eyebrows lifted. “Aren’t you going to look?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I’m not ordering.”

Arthur set down his menu, tilting his head as he looked at the tall blond sitting across from him. “You’re not going to eat? But we’re out for dinner.”

“Oh, I’ll eat. I’m just not ordering.”

It was quiet as they stared at each other, then Arthur’s face went blank and he sat back in his chair.

“You’re going to make me order for you, aren’t you.”

“Yep.”

“Why?” he demanded, and Alfred chuckled. Before the bespectacled tourist could answer, however, their waitress returned with a tray holding two glasses of water and Arthur’s cider.

“Here we are!” she said brightly, setting one glass in front of Alfred with a smile then placing the other two on Arthur’s side of the table. Once again, she chose to focus on Alfred, and Arthur took the opportunity to scrutinize his companion’s expression. Alfred was smiling, everything about his posture and expression the height of manners as he thanked the waitress for their drinks. But Arthur recognized something in the man’s eyes, something about the way his smile held just the hint of a smirk, that made him think the American was planning something.

_What is he thinking?_

“Do you know what you would like to order this evening?” she asked the blue-eyed tourist, and Alfred pointed at Arthur, smile still in place.

“He’s the boss, he gets to decide.”

The boss? Arthur’s face heated and he glared at Alfred for a moment before smiling at the waitress, though he didn’t manage to hide his embarrassment. Her expression was irritated now, not simply put out that Alfred wasn’t returning any of her invitations for him to flirt with her.

“What would you like?” she asked tonelessly, and Arthur’s smile became forced as he tried not to let his own annoyance show.

“The roast pork with apple sauce, please,” he responded, pausing as she wrote it down, “and bangers and mash.”

A strained smile appeared on the waitresses face. “Great.” She turned to Alfred, this time not bothering to widen her smile or cock her hip. “I’ll have those out as soon as they’re ready.” Then she was gone, and Alfred had the biggest grin that Arthur had ever seen.

“You’re a wanker,” was all Arthur said, and the American burst out laughing.

“You should have seen your face!” he gasped out between laughs, tears forming under his eyes. “And she was so mad that I wouldn’t flirt with her!”

Arthur almost couldn’t believe how happy this whole situation was making the other man, but he couldn’t be annoyed by it. To be honest, he thought it was funny, too, that the waitress had so obviously been attracted to Alfred only for the American to completely ignore it. Eventually, Alfred’s laughing became contagious and he let out a few chuckles.

“All right, all right. It was funny,” he admitted, and Alfred took several deep breaths to calm himself.

“I’m glad you went along with it, Artie,” the American finally managed to say once he’d calmed himself, smiling across the table at the Brit. His blue eyes were even brighter than before and Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Alfred.”

“Yeah?”

Slowly, hesitatingly, Arthur leaned forward across the table and smiled shyly. “You still want that kiss?”

The American’s eyes widened in surprise and he nodded mutely before leaning across the table as well. He paused for a moment, staring into Arthur’s green eyes, then smiled and closed the gap between them.

As soon as he felt warm lips against his own, Arthur let his eyes fall shut and returned the kiss. It only lasted for a few moments, and he could tell that Alfred was being careful not to get carried away like they had in the tea shop, but it was a nice enough kiss. When the taller man pulled away again, he looked down at the table to hide his blush.

“What’s the matter?” Alfred asked quietly, and Arthur shook his head.

“Nothing.”

_Two kisses in one day. Our first date, and we’ve kissed twice. What is happening to me? I wanted to do this and have a whirlwind romance adventure and Alfred is definitely capable of sweeping me off my feet. Normally, I’d feel rushed and smothered if someone kissed me twice during the first date, but with Alfred…I don’t. He isn’t rushing me. He’s just…kissable._

“Arthur?”

He looked up at the American and smiled a little. “Yes?”

“Is it all right that I kissed you again?” He looked genuinely worried that he’d done something wrong, and Arthur wanted to hug him.

“Of course it is.” He smiled and took a drink of his cider then winked in what he hoped was a playful manner. “It was my idea, after all. You did say that I’m the boss.”

A grin spread over Alfred’s face. “I did. So, does the boss have any other orders for me?”

Arthur hummed thoughtfully and took another drink. “Not at the moment. But I’ll try to come up with something fun for you to do, shall I?”

He could see it in Alfred’s face, in the smirk that escaped the American’s control and the way he shifted forward in his chair. The American wanted to say something sexual about Arthur’s last comment, wanted to up the level of their flirtations. But he was holding back because of how upset Arthur had gotten in the pub, and the Brit knew it. Part of him wanted to give the blue-eyed man permission to say it. He wanted to hear Alfred flirt with him and he wanted to flirt back because the American was kissable and so easy to flirt with that Arthur knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself when those opportunities presented themselves. Not that he wanted to.

“Are you all right, Alfred? You look like there’s something you want to say,” he pointed out, and an almost pained look came into the American’s eyes.

“Nope. I’m good.”

The Brit pulled the most innocent expression he could, leaning his elbows on the table. “Are you sure? You can tell me if something’s wrong, you know. Boss is always here to listen.”

Alfred’s face was quickly turning red and Arthur internally gloated over how much he was getting to this man who seemed so unflappable most of the time. This entire situation had completely flipped around and suddenly he was the one flustering Alfred instead of the other way around.

_He shouldn’t have made me the boss._

To be fair, Alfred didn’t know him well enough to realize that Arthur wasn’t one to take advantage of being given power. But when it was something like this, like being “the boss,” well, why would he pass it up? Besides, there were so many possibilities to consider when it came to Alfred calling him “boss” that Arthur wanted to smirk. If they’d been in an actual relationship, had known each other for some number of months and been dating long enough that Arthur was willing to play games, this would be one of his favorites.

Unfortunately, this was only the first date. Yet they’d somehow stumbled upon the sort of situation that made Alfred squirm in his chair as Arthur casually sipped on his apple cider. This whirlwind romance adventure of his was going to be even more fun than he’d initially realized.


	6. Chapter 6

God damn it.

_Keep it cool, Al. Don’t let it get to you._

Easier said than done. It was irrationally difficult to stay on his own side of the table all of a sudden, and he was starting to feel uncomfortably warm. He wasn’t hungry, though, which was good because otherwise he really wouldn’t have been able to hold back all the comments running through his head. Hunger was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now.

On the other hand, Alfred wouldn’t have minded _dealing_ with the Brit sitting only a foot and a half away. Especially the little smirk dancing around the corner of that teasing mouth. He’d made the right choice in giving Arthur control of their date—the amusement in his emerald eyes made that obvious. Arthur liked being the boss and if Alfred was perfectly honest with himself then he couldn’t deny that he liked it, too.

_I’d let him order me around._

Yes. Yes, he would. Arthur would probably be fantastic—he could easily picture the golden blond hair pushed back out of his eyes, a cruel, sexy smirk curving his lips as he grabbed Alfred’s hair and pulled his head back so their eyes met.

“Alfred.”

_Shit._

The warning tone Arthur had used put a guilty look on Alfred’s face though he did his best to smile at the Brit. “Yeah?”

Arthur was staring at him with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile. “What were you thinking about, just now?”

_Letting you put a collar on me so I can do some really nasty things to you._

“Nothing,” the bespectacled man lied smoothly, slipping into a calm, confident posture and expression. “I was just spacing off.”

The eyebrow went higher. “Am I boring you?”

“’Course not, sugar.” Flawlessly, Alfred shifted his accent from ambiguous American to a deep southern drawl. To his amusement, Arthur’s face turned red and it looked like he was biting the inside of his lower lip or his tongue. Alfred decided to push his luck and winked at the other man. “I jes’ got lost in yer purdy eyes.”

Arthur looked away, his face practically flaming as he took a long drink of his ice water. It was funny to see the Englishman that had been teasing him only a few minutes ago so flustered just because of his accent.

“Somethin’ the matter, Artie?” he asked, grin still firmly in place. “Ya look a li’l flushed.”

Silent, Arthur nodded without looking at him. “Fine.” His voice was strained and the red was starting to creep down his neck.

“D’ya like this’n better? It’s a right sight easier ta recognize.”

“Knock it off,” Arthur growled, finally meeting Alfred’s gaze with an obviously frustrated expression, “before I do something I’ll regret.”

Alfred couldn’t help but lean one arm on the table. “Ya sure ya’d regret it?” he purred, and Arthur’s ears went as red as his face.

“Git.”

The American laughed and dropped the accent as quickly as he’d picked it up. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

Arthur glared as Alfred grinned, emeralds locked with sapphires. They both knew the accent had gotten to Arthur on a level that he wasn’t willing to admit to. It was definitely something that Alfred was going to have to remember to use later. Maybe he’d even take advantage of it.

_Wouldn’t be the first time that accent came in handy._

Neither man had a chance to say anything more, considering that their waitress returned at that moment, a tray with two plates of food in her hands. “Roast pork,” she set a steaming plate in front of Arthur, “and bangers and mash.” The other was placed on Alfred’s side of the table. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked politely and even a little hopefully, though this time she made sure to look back and forth between the two men so that she wouldn’t be directed at Arthur.

Still grinning, Alfred opened his mouth to respond but didn’t manage to get any words out before Arthur cut him off.

“Yes, actually,” the Brit said, hooded green eyes on Alfred, “I’d like a glass of spiced rum.”

Alfred watched the waitress’ reaction out of the corner of his eye, sharing in her confusion but not showing it himself.

“Do you want it mixed with anything?” She seemed almost afraid to ask.

“No, thank you.”

“All right.” Confused and a little concerned, she wrote down the order then walked away. Alfred raised an eyebrow.

“Straight rum, huh?” It sounded like a really bad idea, especially since he didn’t know anything about Arthur’s drinking habits or tolerance or what kind of drunk he was. The apple cider he’d ordered was fine—that had very little alcohol in it so he wasn’t at all worried about the green-eyed man drinking it over dinner. But rum?

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

That smirk was still lingering around his mouth and there was something in his eyes that made Alfred nervous. Who was this guy, that he could so quickly go from teasing to flustered to having a secret that made the American’s pulse race slightly?

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

Arthur smiled, his expression almost but not quite innocent as he picked up his fork and knife and began cutting apart his roast pork. “There’s no need to look so worried, Alfred. One glass of rum won’t be enough to get me past that giddy stage right before the tipsy stage.”

So he was drinking rum to be giddy. Did that mean he wasn’t happy with how their date was going?

“If you say so,” Alfred replied, shrugging as he picked up his own silverware. “I guess I just didn’t take you for much of a drinker.”

“You met me in a pub,” the Brit pointed out before taking a bite of pork.

“Yeah, but you seemed completely sober to me. Or are you one of those people who can drink until dawn and act like you’ve never had a drop of alcohol in your life up until you’re about to pass out?”

That made Arthur chuckle and he shook his head. “No, I can’t hold my liquor quite that well, and I don’t really drink very much. One or two small glasses in the pub on Friday nights is usually all I drink.”

“So why are you ordering rum?”

“Because I trust you to take care of things if I do have a little too much to drink.”

Oh, shit. This was not a good idea—Alfred was used to getting a meal from people who’d been drinking, not tucking them into bed and walking away. But it would be okay as long as he wasn’t hungry. He’d just eaten last night so there was no way he’d start to feel hungry until at least tomorrow afternoon and he had no plans to be around Arthur when that happened. The Brit didn’t need to be his chosen meal for a second time, and Alfred didn’t know if he could handle being turned down for a second time, anyway.

“I’m flattered,” was all he could say, because Arthur had turned his attention to his meal and Alfred still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about the golden blond drinking.

_It’ll be fine. He isn’t going to get drunk and I’m not hungry. We’re on a date and he doesn’t have to drive so why shouldn’t he have a couple of drinks? Relax, Al._

To distract himself, Alfred focused on his own food and took a few bites as an excuse not to say anything. Eventually, though, he decided he was tired of the silence that was only broken by the sounds of their silverware clinking softly against their plates, and looked up at Arthur again.

“So, you go to that pub for a drink every Friday?” he asked by way of starting up their conversation, and Arthur nodded as he took a drink of his water.

“Usually. First time I’ve ever been asked out by some handsome stranger, though.”

The description made Alfred grin and he winked at the shorter man sitting across from him. “I find that hard to believe, but I’m glad I got to be the first one.” He saw the slightly flattered embarrassment flit over Arthur’s face and took it as encouragement. “You must work nearby, then, if you stop there for a drink so often.”

“Yes, I actually work in this district, at one of the banks.”

Leaning his elbows on the table, Alfred ignored his food in favor of putting all of his attention on his companion. “What do you do?”

“I’m on the advisory board to help the bank decide who to approve for loans and things like that,” he explained with a small shrug. “It’s not the highest or best paying job, but I’m content with my lot.”

“That’s good,” Alfred commented, “as long as you’re happy with your job then that’s all that matters.”

“What about you?” Setting down his fork so that he could focus on Alfred rather than his food, Arthur mimicked the way the American was leaning forward on the table. “You’re a model, yes? What sort of modeling do you do?”

“Small stuff, mostly. Ads for magazines and commercials. I’m not famous or anything.” He would be, but he couldn’t. There was no point in being a famous model for a few years just to pretend to retire and fade out of society’s notice for a while just to come back with a new name so that no one would notice that he didn’t actually age. Feliks was more than willing to shove Alfred into the public eye and put his name on billboards, but he always refused. The nymph could go on designing clothes forever under different brand names and no one would ever notice that it was always the same person, but Alfred couldn’t do that. He had to stay small-time or people might start asking questions, and that was just about the last thing he wanted.

Of course, he couldn’t tell any of that to Arthur.

“Would you do a show, if someone asked you?” There was genuine curiosity in Arthur’s green eyes and Alfred smiled in spite of himself.

“Sure, I guess, though I don’t know how good I’d be at strutting down a runway. I’d feel sort of embarrassed to have so many people watching me.”

“What, with a face like yours? You’d be the favorite—they’d love you.”

Unable to help himself, Alfred blushed slightly at the compliment. “Thanks, but I’m okay with ads and commercials. Obviously it pays well enough for me to live a good life and, hey, if I hadn’t started working for Feliks, then I never woulda met you.”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to blush and he averted his gaze for a moment.

“Flatterer,” he muttered, and Alfred reached across the table to touch the other man’s hand. The pale skin was soft and smooth and he reveled in it, knowing that he could easily hold onto that hand for the rest of his life and never be less fascinated by the way it felt against his own skin.

“I mean it, Artie. I’m glad I wandered into that pub last night,” he murmured sincerely, not bothering to look up when approaching footsteps betrayed that the waitress was back with Arthur’s rum, and ignoring her when she asked if he wanted anything.

Yeah, he wanted something, but not something that she could bring him on her black plastic tray. He didn’t think she’d be willing to deliver Arthur up to him, anyway, and he didn’t want Arthur on a platter—although he wouldn’t necessarily mind it, either.

_One day. One day, and I want to spend time with this man every chance I get. After just one day._

Hell. He couldn’t be in love already. Could he? Would he know if he was? Love wasn’t something he’d experienced before, at least, not that he could remember. His human years were a little fuzzy, after all, so maybe he’d been in love once before, but he didn’t think so. This wasn’t a familiar feeling.

“All right, all right,” Arthur mumbled, face red once more, “cut it out. You’re embarrassing me.”

Slowly, Alfred pulled his hand back to his own side of the table and smiled. “So, Mister Bank Administrator, what do you do for fun, besides sit in that pub waiting for someone like me to come along and sweep you off your feet?”

Despite still being a little red in the face, Arthur took a moment to carefully consider the question before answering. “I like to read, and I write a bit of poetry here and there.”

That snagged Alfred’s interest. “Can I read some of your work?”

“You…you really want to?” The Brit looked stunned, as if no one had ever taken even the slightest interest in his hobby before.

“Yeah. I mean, poetry is really expressive so reading yours should help me get to know you better,” Alfred pointed out.

“Oh, well, yes, I suppose you could read some of my poems, but you have to promise not to laugh at any of them.”

Alfred’s usual grin made its appearance and he nodded enthusiastically. “Deal.”

“All right, what about you?”

“I studied mechanics and engineering in college so I spend a lot of time working on my bikes, though I really enjoy cars, too. I won’t say no to a party if I’m in the mood, though sometimes it’s nice to sit down in a quiet spot with a good book and forget all about the world for a little while, y’know?” He was smiling as he said it, though his blue eyes had taken on a faraway look as he idly traced the pattern stitched into the table cloth beneath their plates and the centerpieces.

“Yes, I know what you mean.” Arthur’s voice had quieted as well and both men fell silent for several moments, lost in their own separate thoughts as they ate a bit more. “When did you first become interested in auto mechanics?”

He had to think about that one for a few moments. “During my teenage years, like most other kids. For a while, I rode this really old motorcycle that my dad had stored away on our farm. He told me that if I fixed it up and got it running then I could ride it as much as I wanted, so I did. Fixing up that old bike was somehow the most amazing thing I’d ever done and sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever do anything better than that.”

“So you studied to be a mechanic and ended up being a model, instead,” Arthur summed it up, and Alfred nodded after giving a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Funny how things work out, huh?” The American went back to eating the meal Arthur had chosen for him so that he wouldn’t have to look in the Englishman’s eyes as he thought about exactly that—things don’t always work out just the way people want them to.

His life was the perfect example. Fresh off the farm as soon as he was old enough to enlist, then right into the military because there was a war going on and it was a war that needed to be won, no matter what. But he’d only made it a couple of years as a soldier before his life was turned upside down. He’d met that stranger and, well, his memories of what happened were pretty fuzzy but the next day he’d woken up and discovered that he was no longer human and it had scared him to death. Or it would have, had he been able to die as easily as a human could. Now he was an Incubus and he had to have sex every few days or he’d waste away and die.

Not the sort of life story he thought Arthur would enjoy, especially during their first date.

“Your turn. Did you always want to be in the banking business?” A rather large bite of food disappeared into his mouth.

An embarrassed look came into Arthur’s eyes and he looked down at the table top with a shy smile. “No, I, ah, well, I wanted to be a rock star, actually.”

Alfred almost choked on his food. Arthur? A rock star? Not just a group singer or a background dancer or instrumentalist, but a _rock star_. “That’s really cool.”

The green-eyed man looked up at him in surprise, his face having been hidden by his bangs as he examined the few bites that were all that was left of his roast pork; a drink of rum left him licking his lips and Alfred had the overwhelming urge to lean across the table and kiss him. Again.

“I had a bit of a punk phase, if we can call it that.”

“Did you have tattoos?”

The Brit’s blush darkened and that was all the answer Alfred needed.

“You did! Awesome! Can I see?” he asked, speaking quickly in his excitement that Arthur, this man who seemed so proper and unflappable, was apparently the outcome of teenage years spent worshiping rock stars and celebrities.

“No, you may not see,” Arthur eventually replied, a little bit indignant. “Not here, anyway.”

“So, when I take you back to your apartment…?” the American let his sentence trail off suggestively, smirking a little to see Arthur flush and take another drink of his rum.

“If you think you’re coming inside on the first date then you’ve got another thing coming, love,” he replied, and Alfred laughed softly.

“I’m not surprised. But can I see them sometime? I bet they’re pretty badass.”

A certain amount of pride entered Arthur’s bearing and he half smiled. “Of course they are.”

It was an answer worthy of a grin. Then another possibility occurred to Alfred and he leaned across the table to whisper conspiratorially, “Did you have piercings?” The only response from Arthur was a curt nod and Al couldn’t help but grin. “Can I see those, too?”

“Maybe.” Arthur let his half smile turn teasing as he sat back in his chair. “If you’re good.”

“Oh, I can be good.” Leaning back as well, Alfred let a seductive smirk curl up one side of his mouth. “I can be _very_ good.”

“Really. Well, you’re going to have to prove that, you bloody American,” the Briton stated, his tone borderline playful, and Alfred was about to say that he wouldn’t mind doing just that whenever Arthur had the time for a demonstration, but their waitress returned before he could get the words out.

_She has really shitty timing._

“Are you gentlemen ready for your bill or will you be ordering desert tonight?”

Green eyes met blue as Arthur and Alfred considered each other.

“We’re done,” the golden blond decided after a few moments, and the woman set a thin leather booklet on the table top.

“Thank you for dining with us tonight.”

It was quiet after she left, and Alfred reached into his pocket for his wallet. He counted out enough notes to cover the bill—plus a little extra as a tip—and tucked them into the booklet as Arthur watched in mild curiosity. Paying for such a large meal with cash was probably odd, but he didn’t carry credit cards and he never would. They were just another one of those things that he would have to get rid of after so many years then get new ones under a new name to avoid attracting unwanted attention. He, Feliks and Toris all paid for everything in cash to avoid leaving a paper trail with their names plastered all over it.

“Ready?” he asked, standing and straightening his jacket. Arthur nodded and stood as well, and Alfred reached over to take the smaller man’s hand without even realizing it. But Arthur didn’t complain, and they walked all the way back to where the motorcycle sat waiting for them without letting go of each other.

This time, Arthur put the helmet on by himself and easily settled onto the bike, though it was obvious that he was still a little nervous. Alfred brought the machine to life, loving the rumble of the engine and how _alive_ it felt underneath him, how powerful. It was only made better by the arms wrapped around his ribcage and the knees that pressed gently against his hips, the helmet resting against his shoulder.

“I’m ready!” Arthur called, just loud enough for the American to hear it over the motorcycle, and then they were off down the street back towards his apartment.

The few minutes went by much too quickly for Alfred. He would have liked to spend a good half an hour or so with Arthur holding onto him like that, but he couldn’t very well just drive around London without telling the petite blond about it first, so he contented himself with the few minutes he had. Still, disappointment colored his thoughts when they pulled up to the curb and he shut off the bike as Arthur carefully climbed off onto the sidewalk.

Without wasting a moment, Alfred stood up as well and helped the smaller man remove the helmet, then tucked it under his arm.

“Thanks for going out with me, Artie,” he said with a smile, and Arthur nodded.

“I had fun, even though we almost got kicked out of a tea shop, and the waitress at the restaurant wanted you to ask for her number.”

Alfred couldn’t help but chuckle a little sheepishly at the description of their date. “Yeah, well, what’s life without a few unexpected twists?”

“Safe,” Arthur replied.

“Boring,” Alfred corrected, then pulled the smaller man into a hug before Arthur could stop him. “I had fun, too.”

To his satisfaction, Arthur returned the hug before pulling away just enough for their eyes to meet; they were silent for just a moment.

“You’re bloody ridiculous,” the green-eyed man murmured, and Alfred gave a cocky grin.

“Why d’you think that?”

A red tinge came into Arthur’s cheeks, though he didn’t look away. “Because I find myself wanting you to kiss me again.”

“Ah.” Victory rushed through Alfred’s veins. “I can do that, you know.”

He could see it in Arthur’s eyes that he wanted it, and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t want it, too. That was all he wanted in that moment, to pull Arthur flush against him and kiss him as if he’d never see the shorter blond again. Maybe pick him up and carry him into the apartment they’d pulled up to and show him that Alfred really was perfectly capable of behaving himself. But he didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, he waited for Arthur to give a small nod, then he kissed the Englishman, softly and carefully so as not to lose control of himself like he had in the tea shop. Damn, though, the Brit tasted good. Even though he only tasted those pale, pretty lips, he could tell that, if he ever _really_ got to taste Arthur, that he would want to drown in the flavor of honey, the lingering warmth of rum and apple cider that he found. And when Arthur kissed him back…it was perfect, the way their lips moved and fit to each other. It would have been so easy to give into the temptation that was this quirky little Englishman, and Alfred had to use all of his self control to break the kiss after several long moments in order to stare into amazing green eyes.

_I think I love you._

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” he whispered, pleased that Arthur was staring right back at him, that there was a light pink dusting the Brit’s pale cheeks; they were both slightly out of breath.

“You’d better, you kissable git.”

Alfred chuckled quietly and kissed Arthur’s nose just for the hell of it. “I will. Promise.” Then he released the smaller man and waited until the golden blond had vanished inside the apartment before getting back on his motorcycle and driving off down the street, back towards the hotel where he was sure Feliks was lying in wait for him in anticipation of hearing all about how the date had gone. And Alfred knew he wouldn’t mind telling him every little detail because that had been the best date of his life. Besides, who better to share in his excitement than the nymph?


	7. Chapter 7

Candles flickered along the walls, casting shadows that attracted his attention, and he watched them for several long moments. Modestly dressed and unobtrusive, Arthur sat quietly in the back of the church. The preacher’s voice carried well enough for him to hear, though he wasn’t quite paying attention. It was just a pleasant noise in the background, helping to soothe and relax him as he gazed at the high windows and vaulted ceiling. The building was beautiful, there was no doubt about that, and he felt entirely comfortable to sit there and absorb the peace that filled this chapel. The weak morning sunlight made the stained glass in the windows glow just slightly, and Arthur knew that they would be absolutely stunning in an hour or so once the sun rose a little higher. For now, though, the colors were soft and peaceful as they illuminated the building, and that suited him just fine. He liked how peaceful church services were. Today, he’d decided to attend a Catholic service. Maybe next week would be Protestant. He wouldn’t decide until he woke up next Sunday—who knew what he’d be in the mood for a week from now.

Arthur barely noticed when the pastor finished his sermon and the other people who had attended the mass began to get up and leave. His attention was locked on the candles and their shadows again and it wasn’t until he and only a few others remained that it occurred to the Brit that he should probably clear out before someone came to ask him if he needed something.

A quiet, content sigh escaped him as he stood, stretching his back so it popped once or twice, straightened his blazer, and left the building. Fresh, cool morning air greeted him once he walked out the doors, and he smiled slightly before heading off down the sidewalk. It was a lovely morning, though the news last night claimed that it was going to rain later in the day. That was no surprise, and it was of little consequence because he fully intended to be home by the time the weather was supposed to turn sour.

For now, though, he wandered along until he came to a wrought-iron fence, and then he followed that until he found the gate. Beyond was a small park, a place where families could come for picnics and to fly kites when the weather permitted. Smiling and with his hands neatly tucked into his pockets, Arthur went through the gate and into the park. The sidewalk led him past open, grassy spaces and small groups of trees, eventually passing a wooden park bench with a dedication plaque embedded on the back. Arthur had never managed to read the faded words; he assumed whomever it was dedicated to had played a large part in creating this park.

Abandoning the path, Arthur chose instead to sit and enjoy the quickly strengthening sunlight and listen to the sounds of birds and other small animals as they went about their business in the trees and grass around him. It was almost as peaceful as the church had been. Now, though, he felt he had a little more freedom to let his thoughts wander, and before long he found himself thinking about one thing in particular.

_I should invite Alfred._

_But it will be boring. He’ll be bored. He wouldn’t want to go to something like that. Maybe, but there’s no harm in asking. You’ll have more fun if he goes. Alfred would add a little excitement._

The American was refreshing company, but Arthur wasn’t sure if he wanted to invite him. They’d only just met, after all, and as well as the date had gone, he was nervous. What if Alfred said no? A handsome young man like Alfred would certainly have better things to do in London than attend some stuffy faculty party. Even if he did like Arthur enough to say yes out of courtesy, he would probably be bored out of his mind listening to a few old men talk about their adventures in banking. Still, it would impress his colleagues if Arthur showed up with someone like Alfred as his Plus One. He’d never brought a Plus One to any of the faculty parties and he had a feeling that his coworkers thought he had absolutely no love life. Not that he minded such an opinion—it was better than everyone knowing what a train wreck his love life tended to be.

_Just call him and ask. So what if he says no?_

But Arthur didn’t want to call. He didn’t want to seem clingy or overly attached after only one date. Besides, Alfred had promised to call him today, so all he had to do was wait. Then he would use the opportunity to ask. Hell, he could even suggest that it be their second date—the party itself might be a little boring but they could always go out for drinks afterwards, if they wanted. Or he could invite the American over.

That made Arthur pause and he blinked several times before shaking his head.

“Idiot,” the blond muttered, frowning to himself. “Not already.”

He’d never thought he would meet someone he was so willing to share his life with so quickly. All of his past relationships had to be several serious dates in before Arthur even considered inviting them over to his house. Sure, Alfred knew where he lived, but that was entirely different from asking the American to come inside. Inviting someone into his home was a cause of a large amount of stress for Arthur and it wasn’t something he did on a whim. He always took a day to clean and make sure everything was spotless. Sometimes, he even took the time to rearrange the furniture to try to make it more visually appealing.

Yet there he was, thinking to himself that he might invite the American model over later that week. Only a few days from now. Already? After one date? He was already attached to him enough that he was willing to invite the man into his home.

_What is wrong with me? Have I suddenly lost all my common sense? He’s a vacationing model, for Christ’s sake! I shouldn’t be getting this involved with him. Not so quickly, at least._

Unbidden, images of Alfred’s smile, the way his blue eyes absolutely shone behind his glasses and how his hair was somehow always perfectly messy, filled the Brit’s mind and he groaned, covering his face with his hands. This was getting completely out of hand and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it. He could try avoiding the American, but he didn’t want to do that. He liked Alfred too much, and it would hurt the tall man’s feelings if he did that. Besides, he’d decided that stepping out of his comfort zone for once would be good for him. Why should he change his mind just because he was actually enjoying himself? Alfred didn’t make him uncomfortable and he didn’t feel rushed or anything of the sort. It was just his usual caution stepping in and urging him to slow down. And it was surprising that he wanted to invite Alfred to come to his apartment, but it wasn’t something Arthur thought he should be worried about. What harm was there in wanting to get to know the American a little better?

_None. There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to him. He’s attractive. He’s kissable. Very kissable. Of course I want to spend more time with him. I’ll invite him to the faculty party. If that goes well, then maybe afterwards I’ll invite him over for a drink and just to talk. It doesn’t have to go any farther than that._

He didn’t let himself add “not yet” onto the end of his thought because part of him wasn’t ready to admit how very attracted he was to Alfred. Not that he could blame himself. Anyone would be. But Arthur was a gentleman and letting his emotions get the better of him wasn’t something he easily allowed.

“One step at a time, Arthur,” he assured himself, then stood and started back towards the park entrance. Judging by the slight rumble his stomach decided to make, it was approaching noon and he would be hungry for lunch soon. He could probably make it back to his apartment just in time if he kept a brisk pace.

It was just as he was leaving the park that he realized his phone was still on silent from having been in church, and that if Alfred tried to call him, he wouldn’t notice. That sent him digging through his pockets for the device until he found it, and he was relieved to see that he had no missed calls. He did, however, have an unread message from none other than the handsome American he was so infatuated with.

_Infatuated. That is definitely the right word._

A smile he couldn’t hold back appeared on his face as Arthur opened the message.

_> > Can I call you?_

_< < Of course._

Only about a minute after the message sent, Arthur felt his phone begin to buzz in his pocket and quickly retrieved it, flipping it open.

“Hello?” he answered, sounding breathless in spite of himself.

_“Hey, Artie. What’re you up to?”_

“Going for a walk.” Arthur tucked his free hand into his pocket and slowed his pace to a leisurely stroll—lunch could wait if it meant his conversation with Alfred would last a little longer. “Yourself?”

_“Uh, just looking to see if we have any food in this hotel room. I’m starving.”_

Chuckling, Arthur pictured the tall American dressed in blue jeans and a loose white undershirt, a phone held to his ear as he opened and closed cabinets and leaned over to peer into a fridge in search of something to eat. “You could always go out for lunch.”

_“Naw, I’m too lazy for that. Besides, I look like crap since I just woke up. No one wants to see me looking like this.”_

“I find that hard to believe.”

_“What, that I’m lazy? Trust me, Arthur, I’m one lazy guy.”_

“Not that,” Arthur laughed, “the part about you looking like crap.” If he was completely honest, the image of Alfred looking for food in baggy pajama pants with his hair extra messy and sleepy blue eyes was even better than the one in jeans.

_“Oh.”_ There was a pause and the Brit liked to think he’d made the other man blush. _“Thanks.”_

“You’re welcome.”

Even just over the phone, it was fun to talk to Alfred. The American was so blatant and honest about what he was doing and who he was that it was refreshing. Arthur was used to people who kept up a face of always being put together, of never letting things go or taking a day off. He himself used to do that, though now that he had a secure position in the bank, he’d relaxed somewhat. Knowing that Alfred was being completely honest when he said that he’d just woken up and was too lazy to go out for lunch made Arthur chuckle and shake his head. Somehow, the man who had flattered him flawlessly in the pub then swept him off his feet during their date was also a man who had no problem with eating lunch in his pajamas.

“Did you really just wake up, Alfred?” he asked, smile still in place.

An embarrassed laugh sounded through the phone. _“Yeah. Jet lag is killing me. It’s only, like, seven in the morning back home, so this is breakfast for me.”_

Of course. Arthur had completely forgotten about the difference in time zones between the UK and the US. “Then I’m surprised you’re up, if you’re as lazy as you claim to be.”

_“Normally, I’d sleep in way later than this, but Feliks started playing some insanely loud music to force me to get up. I think he’s got a full day planned for the three of us, and if I’m going to be here all summer then I should get used to the time zone as fast as I can.”_

Voices sounded in the background of the call and Arthur tilted his head, listening curiously. “Is that Feliks?”

Muffled words were the only response for a moment. _“Yeah. He wanted to know who I was talking to—“_

_“Hi, Arthur!”_ a new voice shouted, drowning Alfred out for a moment.

_“Feliks! Shut up!”_ The American growled as someone, probably Feliks, giggled in the background. _“Knock it off, you annoying little--!”_ A pause, then a sigh. _“Yes, as a matter of fact, I’m starving. Can’t you tell?”_

One thick, blond eyebrow lifted out of amusement, Arthur almost paused on the sidewalk to listen to the conversation taking place on Alfred’s side of the phone call. It was interesting to hear him talk to people he was comfortable around. Clearly, they had a close friendship because it sounded like Feliks was making fun of him for something.

_“Hey, Artie?”_

“Yes?” His pace returned to normal though he was still smiling.

_“Feliks just said he’ll make breakfast if I help, so I’m gonna let you go, kay? I can call again later, if you want.”_

“I would like that, Alfred,” the Brit responded, glad that he was important enough to receive more than one phone call from the American. “Before you go, though, I have a question.” Now was his chance.

_“Ask away.”_

“Well, there’s a faculty party on Thursday that I have to attend. It’s supposed to encourage friendly relations between different sectors and branches of the bank. I’m sure it’s going to be boring beyond belief, but I’m allowed to bring a Plus One, if you’re at all interested.” He paused, biting his lip as he waited for Alfred’s answer. “You don’t have to come,” he added when there was no immediate response. “I just know I’ll enjoy it more if you’re there, and maybe it could be our second date?” A hopeful tone slipped into the ending and Arthur prayed silently that he didn’t sound desperate or pathetic.

_“That sounds great. Of course I’ll go. Thursday night?”_

“Yes, the party starts at eight pm.” His apartment was in sight and Arthur slowed his steps even further to keep from getting there before their conversation was over.

_“Then I’ll pick you up at 7:30 and you can tell me where to go. Sound good?”_

“Oh, on your motorcycle?” Arthur asked hesitantly, remembering how terrifying it had been the first time.

_“You sound nervous, Artie,”_ the American teased, and Arthur felt his face heat up slightly.

“I’m not nervous! The party is a semi-formal event and I don’t know how my boss would react to me arriving on the back of a motorcycle with my arms around some handsome foreigner!”

_“He’ll be jealous as hell, of course.”_

“That’s not the point, you git!” the golden blond all but shouted, then glanced around to make sure he hadn’t caught anyone’s attention by being too loud. He made sure to lower his voice. “If my boss thinks I’m doing anything that could reflect poorly on the company, I could get demoted or fired!”

_“If you think I’ll get you fired, then why are you inviting me?”_

“Because I like you, idiot, and I know I would enjoy your company. Just promise me you won’t do anything too…American.”

_“Excuse me?”_ Alfred was clearly offended.

_Hell. That was the wrong thing to say._ “No, I—I didn’t mean it like that! I’m sorry!” The Brit rushed to get the words out, hoping he hadn’t done irreparable damage to his relationship with the taller blond.

_“Are ya sayin’ there’s somethin’ wrong with Americans, Artie?”_

Immediately, Arthur felt his face turn red and he stopped walking altogether for a moment before quickly moving towards his front door. There was no way he was continuing this conversation in public if Alfred was going to start using that damned southern accent. He already had his keys out when he got up the stairs to his front door.

“Don’t do that!” he hissed once the door was safely shut behind him and he’d leaned back against it. “I was outside!” It only made it worse that his reaction made Alfred chuckle.

_“Yer point? I kin do anythin’ I want, darlin’. Or were ya plannin’ on doin’ somethin’ ta make me stop?”_

Bloody hell! The bastard knew what he was doing! “Stop it!”

_“What fer? I like this’n, ya know.”_

_So do I. That’s the problem._ Rather than admit it, though, Arthur took a deep breath and slowly released it as a sigh. “I can see that. So, Thursday?”

_“I’ll be there.”_

At least he’d dropped the accent so Arthur managed to stand up straight again. “7:30, and don’t you dare be late, Alfred.”

_“Whatever you say, Boss.”_

The nerve of him! Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he held back the countless responses he wanted to snap at the American who insisted on teasing him. “I’ll see you then. Enjoy your lunch.”

_“See ya, Artie.”_

“Goodbye, Alfred.” He hung up and let out another sigh, relieved. At least he’d managed to get inside before he did something he’d rather not do in public. That bloody accent did things to him that Arthur would rather not think about and would certainly never admit. It just wasn’t fair— _his_ accent didn’t seem to have any effect on Alfred whatsoever. But the moment the American dropped into that drawl…Arthur shook himself as the mere memory of it sent goosebumps up his arms.

_And the git knows._

Well, there was nothing he could do about that, so Arthur decided not to worry about it, at least not for now. For now, he would enjoy the fact that Alfred had agreed to go to the faculty party with him on Thursday, and that he could walk into work with his head held high tomorrow. His colleagues would likely try to tease him about his boring weekend—as they did every Monday—but this time he was going to have a story to share. Not that he planned on giving them very many details. The bastards could wait until Thursday to find out who the “handsome stranger” he’d just so happened to meet on Friday night was.

It was going to be fun to shock them all.

X

The moment he hit the End Call option on his phone, Alfred felt hands gripping his shirt and was roughly yanked forward as lips crashed against his own. Without even thinking about it, he dropped the phone and ran his hands down the other person’s sides until they found the curve of bare hips, which he gripped tightly as his eyes fell shut.

_Hungry._

Yes, he was hungry. He was starving. His meal the other night hadn’t lasted as long as he’d expected and he’d woken up with the familiar craving banging around in his skull. And being kissed was like opening a floodgate to let that hunger overtake him completely. It was amazing that he’d managed to stay calm while talking to Arthur for so long while being this hungry.

Fingers tightening on those hips, Alfred tilted his head and opened his mouth, his tongue sliding out to taste and explore soft lips before delving between them into the hot mouth beyond. The action drove a moan from his makeout partner and the incubus couldn’t help but smirk a little; one of his hands slid around to cup a handful of ass and he squeezed while bringing their hips together.

“Alfred!” his name was gasped as the other pulled away from the kiss, and Alfred opened his eyes, grinning.

“What?” he asked, not at all surprised to see that Feliks was the one who had started kissing him so suddenly; Toris rarely instigated these things.

“You’re, like, totally gonna leave bruises!” the green-eyed nymph accused, pouting slightly; Alfred chuckled and licked the smaller male’s nose.

“So? You’ve never complained about them before.” The hand he still had on Feliks’ rear squeezed gently so that he jumped.

“H-hey!”

Alfred rolled his eyes. “I’m starving, okay? That chick didn’t last long.” His voice lowered into a soft whine and he started kissing the side of Feliks’ neck, knowing it would butter the smaller man up. “I’m hungry, Fe.”

A sigh escaped the nymph and he draped his arms around Alfred’s neck, head tilting to expose more skin to the tall blond. “I know, Al. Toris—”

The brunet looked up from his spot on the couch, expression curious, a book in his hands. “Yes?”

Feliks smiled at his mate, one hand running through Alfred’s hair as the incubus continued to kiss and lick and nibble on his neck. “Feeding time,” he crooned, and Toris smiled a little as he stood up.

“Okay.” There was no hesitation in his movements as he set his book aside and began to unbutton the shirt he had chosen to wear that day. “Come on, Alfred.”

“Pick me up,” Feliks whispered into the American’s ear, and Alfred wasted no time in doing just that, his hands firmly gripping Feliks’ thighs as he lifted him off his feet and began carrying him towards his bedroom. Immediately, the nymph wrapped his legs around Alfred’s waist and pulled him into a second kiss, though this one remained soft as he patiently lapped at the taller man’s mouth. Toris followed them, closing the door once the three men were inside Alfred’s bedroom.

“Light off, or on?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Off,” came Alfred’s reply, and the brunet nodded before moving towards the bed. “I want to do this as our real selves.”

“You really are starving,” Toris commented, though he was smiling as he said it, and didn’t wait to see Alfred’s nod. “Liks.”

His attention caught by the nickname, Feliks unwrapped his legs from Alfred’s waist and, with the American’s help, lowered himself to stand on his own two feet. “I’m, like, ready.” Both males looked at their taller companion, knowing that when he was this hungry, he preferred to be in charge so that he could get his fill. It was best not to tease a hungry incubus.

Grinning again, Alfred quickly stripped off the old T-shirt he’d been wearing, then dropped his pajama pants and boxer briefs. Two pairs of eyes raked over him and his nose flared when the scent of Feliks and Toris’ arousal reached him; it only made the urge to feed that much stronger. Suddenly, Alfred’s shoulders hunched and he held his arms close to his chest, hands clenched into fists as he ground his teeth together, doubling over. A groan was ripped from him and he shuddered violently before going still. Several moments passed before he began to relax and stood straight again, blue eyes glowing eerily in the dark bedroom. His smile was firmly in place, though a little strained and not quite the same as before. Feliks smirked.

“You, like, remember how to use those?” he asked, pointing at the incubus’ mouth to indicate the fangs that had sprouted from his top jaw.

“Just as much as I remember how to use this,” Alfred purred in response, turning slightly so the two could see the slender black tail that now grew from the base of his spine as it curled and twisted as if it had a mind of its own. They could also see a pair of feathery black wings neatly folded over his shoulder blades, and the American reached up to feel one of the small, curling horns that stuck out of the side of his head above his ears with a hand that now bore small black claws rather than fingernails. “Forgot about these, though.”

“It’s been a while since any of us dropped our human forms,” Toris commented softly, holding his shirt in front of himself as a sort of shield.

“Yeah, well, it hurts like hell to change for me,” the incubus responded, not sounding particularly bothered by the fact that it was painful for him to reveal his true form. It wasn’t something he enjoyed doing, but sometimes it was necessary if he wanted as large of a feeding as he needed. “Your turn, Liks.”

Smiling playfully, the nymph shimmied out of his skinny jeans and the pink thong he wore before removing his rather loose Union Jack patterned crop top. He stood there, completely naked and smiling, and for a few moments it didn’t appear that anything was happening. Then, slowly, the short blond began to glow. His skin turned a pale, shimmering gold and he giggled quietly, lips parting to reveal sharp, pointed teeth. A turn of his head revealed that his ears had elongated and lost their roundness, now closely resembling a typical “elf ear.” Angular green eyes focused on Toris as Feliks and Alfred waited expectantly.

Obviously much shyer than the first two males had been, Toris dropped his shirt to the floor and took a deep breath. A look of intense concentration crossed his face, and Alfred and Feliks watched as his ears took on a pointed shape, though they weren’t as long as Feliks’. His skin also began to glow, but with a pale blue tint rather than gold. His fingers and toes stretched just slightly until they were longer than was normal for a human. Lastly, a quiet fluttering sound was heard and then a pair of nearly transparent wings similar to those of a butterfly appeared behind the brunet as he lifted them and flapped a few times to test their strength. They reflected the glow from his skin and Feliks’ shimmer, betraying their iridescent qualities.

“Always so pretty,” Feliks sighed, gaze locked on Toris’ wings; the faerie blushed at the attention.

“Thank you.”

A growl sounded; nymph and faerie turned to find Alfred impatiently chewing on his lip.

“Can we hurry up?” he asked gruffly, trying not to sound too angry or irritated. “I’m about to go nuts over here.”

Smiling, Toris and Feliks simultaneously reached out, each taking hold of one of Alfred’s hands, and pulled him forward until all three males were sitting on the bed. Toris looked at Alfred curiously.

“Lube?” he asked, and the incubus pointed towards his bags.

“I didn’t unpack it yet.”

Without a word, Toris got up and fetched the bottle from where it had been packed with Alfred’s belongings then returned to the bed and sat once more, popping the cap open. “Who’s first?”

“He’s capable of fucking us at, like, the same time,” Feliks pointed out, green eyes full of mischief as he trailed a teasing finger down Alfred’s chest. The taller blond growled again and roughly pulled him into yet another kiss, this one forceful and demanding as he deepened it without waiting for permission. Feliks moaned, submitting to the much stronger male and allowing Alfred to push him onto his back.

“You first,” Alfred panted after breaking the kiss; he glanced at Toris. “Nymph for dinner. Faerie for desert.” Today’s meal would be very satisfying.

He didn’t wait for a response before taking the bottle of lube from Toris and squeezing some of the gel-like substance onto his fingers. Quickly, he reached around and took hold of his tail, coating the last six-ish inches of it with the lube before looking down at Feliks. “Spread ‘em.”

Obedient, Feliks did as he was told, tightly gripping the blanket underneath him as his legs parted to welcome the incubus into his body. Alfred kissed him softly to help him relax, lube-covered tail hovering near the smaller blond’s rear.

“Ready?”

Feliks smiled, hints of a smirk dancing at the corner of his mouth. Then he reached up and took hold of Alfred’s newly revealed horns with both hands, using them to pull the American down so he could whisper into his ear. “Feeding time, Soldier Boy.”

The phrase made Alfred stiffen for a moment and it was completely silent in the bedroom save for the sounds of three men breathing. Then he found Feliks’ entrance and his tail quickly slipped inside, forcing a groan out of the nymph beneath him.

“You know that’s a trigger,” the American growled, tail pumping as Feliks gasped and squirmed; he only waited a few moments before pushing farther and twisting into a corkscrew shape so that the green-eyed blond bucked his hips up with a deep-throated moan. Smirking, Alfred bucked his own hips down onto the nymph’s and twisted his tail, sharp claws digging into the soft, shimmering flesh that covered the smaller male’s ribs.

“A-ah! Alfred!”

_Delicious._

Already, Feliks’ pleasure was strong enough for the incubus to taste it, to drink it in like the elixir of eternal youth. It put a grin on his face as he leaned down and bit his meal’s ear, tugging, licking and sucking, his flexible, talented tail continuing to stretch and pleasure the smaller male. Feliks was writhing, his nails digging into the skin of Alfred’s shoulders and back, the stinging pain only making him enjoy this even more.

Pushing deeper, a twist and a rub ripped a scream from Feliks that proved Alfred had found the man’s prostate. He wasted no time in rubbing against the nymph’s walls until the golden creature shuddered and bit his lip, eyes squeezed shut. Alfred’s grin widened and he nudged at the spot, watching as Feliks arched off the bed, his head thrown back as he panted heavily, sharp teeth clearly visible.

“B-bastard,” he spat, glaring at Alfred through barely focused eyes. Then the incubus sent a bolt of pleasure through his body on nothing more than a whim and suddenly Feliks was twisting his hips every which way, hands once more fisted in the blankets. “Fuck, Alfred!”

Feeling rather calm now, Alfred leaned down and kissed the smaller blond, one hand stroking that narrow golden chest before sliding down to find the nymph’s erection. He gripped it firmly and pumped once, hand quickly becoming slick with Feliks’ precum. That, combined with the unusual appendage currently rubbing and pushing against his prostate, meant that Feliks was little more than a moaning, sweating mess as he tried to keep up with both the hands and tail that were pleasuring him. Alfred purposefully moved the hand on Feliks’ erection slower than his tail, just so he could enjoy the frustration coming from the nymph as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“Nng…j-just, like, do it!”

A smile graced Alfred’s lips and he leaned down to nip at Feliks’ neck, fangs catching the skin slightly so that the nymph shuddered. “You want me to fuck you, Feliks?” he purred, tail slowing to twist and wiggle as it moved in and out of the smaller blond’s body. God, the nymph’s pleasure was delicious. It always had been. Warm and sweet and tangy, making him feel like he could devour the blond until he was completely sated.

Slowly, he withdrew his tail, glowing blue eyes watching closely as the nymph trembled beneath him, then used it to caress Feliks’ erection. Sharp teeth bit into a lip as green eyes glared up at him, and he chuckled. “Impatient?”

“You, like, know what being touched by you does, _kretyn!_ ” Feliks snapped, cheeks tinted pink beneath the gold. “Fucking incubus powers.”

Alfred couldn’t help but laugh. “Was that supposed to be a joke? Or did you mean that I can turn you into a desperate slut with just a touch?” To prove his point, the incubus trailed a finger down his partner’s torso, letting heat and pleasure pour into the smaller blond’s body through that point of contact. Feliks’ eyes went wide and he moaned loudly, legs wrapping around Alfred’s waist to draw him closer.

“Just eat, Alfred,” the nymph ground out, and the American positioned himself at Feliks’ entrance.

He bit his lip, fangs easily cutting through the soft flesh, hips moving forward until he was fully sheathed in the smaller man’s body.

“Nng…” Feliks arched, hips lifting to meet the man above him, eyes squeezed shut against the slight pain that came with being penetrated.

The heat was nearly unbearable and Alfred’s eyelids fluttered as he fought to maintain control of himself. But his self-control wasn’t going to last, and he knew it.

“You better be ready, Fe, cause I can’t hold back much longer,” he managed, leaning down to bite and suck at the nymph’s chest. One of the pert nipples caught his attention and he dragged his tongue over it, a soft moan escaping him when his touch made Feliks arch. The friction sent jolts of pleasure up his spine and momentarily shut out the raging fire in his skull. But it was only for a moment, and then the fire was back even stronger than before, urging him to pin Feliks to the mattress and fuck him until the green-eyed blond screamed.

“Get the hell on with it!”

The command was all he needed, and Alfred didn’t pause before he pulled his hips back then slammed them forward again; his own pleasure plus what he got from Feliks rushed through him and he bit the nymph’s chest, drawing blood. Feliks let out a groan, hands twisting into the blankets as he moved his own hips in time with the larger male’s. Alfred licked up the blood from his bite mark, tongue slowly dragging over Feliks’ heated skin.

_Delicious. More. Hungry. Feast._

It didn’t take long for Alfred to give into the urge. Within moments of penetrating Feliks, he had the nymph’s hands pinned above his head with one of his own as he roughly kissed the blond, drinking in the sounds he made with every thrust. Feliks’ pleasure was a tangible, sparking energy that Alfred could feel soaking his skin, his bones, his very core. Feeding from the nymph really was a feast, and he knew Feliks was getting close, that the pleasure Alfred was pouring back into him through every place they touched would soon push him over the edge and he would climax, and that would be like the sun bursting out from behind dark clouds.

And it felt good, felt amazing to have the golden creature’s legs around his waist, how hot and tight he was even after being stretched, the warmth of his skin as their stomachs and chests were pressed together, that playful, teasing mouth that so easily gave way under his own because as stubborn and power-hungry as all fire nymphs were they had no way of overpowering an incubus. Feliks had offered himself up as Alfred’s next meal and the American would feed off him as much as he could.

His knees shifted against the mattress and he thrust himself deeper, felt Feliks’ muscles tighten around him, moaned at the same time as the nymph because fuck he was a good lay and his energy was something Alfred couldn’t get enough of. Grip tightening on his wrists, the American broke the kiss and reached down to bite Feliks’ earlobe, tugging and sucking as the speed of his hips increased. The sounds coming from the other man egged him on. Every moan was like a plea for more, gasps and whimpers proof that he was giving just as much pleasure to the nymph as energy he was taking.

“A-Alfred!”

The sound of his name made Alfred smile and he kissed down the smaller blond’s neck before licking back up to his ear. “You’re close, Fe.” His voice rumbled deep in his throat like a large cat of prey. Teasingly, his nails trailed down the nymph’s side, pricking but not cutting the sensitive skin.

A whimper escaped Feliks and he twisted away from the almost-painful touch, only to have Alfred flatten his palm against his side and press a new wave of heat and need into his body so that his hips bucked up and he let out a hoarse shout. Alfred’s eyes fell closed as he enjoyed that newest taste of the nymph’s sexual energy. Then he grimaced at the bitter aftertaste that suddenly struck him—Feliks was wearing out.

_Not enough. More._

But he couldn’t keep feeding from Feliks if the nymph was too tired to continue. It would be cruel and Feliks would never forgive him. Besides, what more energy he needed, he could get from Toris.

“A-Al…stop…hah…no more…I-I can’t…” Feliks gasped, barely managing to open his eyes against the onslaught of sensations that were tearing through his body. Weakly, he reached out and grabbed onto Alfred’s hair, pulling the incubus down until their mouths met in yet another kiss, tongues sliding out to meet each other. “Please…l-let me cum…”

It was obvious in the tired way that Feliks was kissing him that he was exhausted, and Alfred couldn’t blame him. Being his meal was an exhausting experience, though luckily not one that caused harm to his partners. Feliks was tired and he could taste it in the energy he was absorbing, the slow movements of the nymph’s mouth, how quiet his sounds had gotten and the way he was barely moving in reaction to Alfred anymore.

“All right, Fe,” he whispered against the smaller blond’s mouth, releasing Feliks’ wrists so he could brace himself with one hand while the other slid down to find the nymph’s forgotten member. Gently, he stroked, then wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed, earning soft sounds from his partner as he continued to move. That bitterness was still there, tainting the energy he was feeding on, but it was still energy, and Alfred wasn’t one to leave Feliks without letting him release. To do so would be plain mean, especially when the nymph was doing him such a favor by letting him feed off him in the first place.

So he pumped and rubbed and caressed Feliks’ erection, all the while using the contact to press more pleasure into the nymph to help him through the last stretch.

“Let go, Fe,” he urged, once more kissing his partner’s neck and occasionally his lips. “Let go.”

Feliks nodded and closed his eyes as Alfred used his gifts as an incubus to help the smaller blond reach his climax. The bitterness disappeared and he smiled, blue eyes gazing at Feliks’ flushed face, his sweaty body, the odd little flashes of light that appeared on his skin only to disappear a millisecond later. He was so close and Alfred could taste it, knew that Feliks only needed one more little push to release; reaching up, the incubus bit onto the pointed edge of the nymph’s ear and tugged gently, fangs and tongue moving against the sensitive flesh. And, just like that, Feliks was done. His golden, shimmering body exploded with those odd flashes of light that were so like sparks from a fire and a sound somewhere between a groan and a scream ripped from him, back arching and hips lifting as he came.

The energy hit Alfred like an explosion and he gasped, eyes going wide then falling shut as his hips thrust forward once more with the force of his release. It was all the pleasure of an orgasm combined with the intense satisfaction of a good meal, of all the energy he could want. Slowly, the pleasure faded, and when he’d regained control over his shaking limbs, Alfred carefully removed himself from the smaller male’s body.

“Hn…Al…” Obviously exhausted, Feliks smiled up at the incubus before turning his head to the side and looking at his mate. “Toris…”

Gently, Toris took the nymph’s hand into both of his own and kissed Feliks’ trembling fingertips. “Sleep, Liks. I’ll take care of Alfred’s dessert. We can cuddle afterwards.”

Feliks nodded, satisfied with the promise, and smiled a little more before pulling his hand free and moving to the edge of the bed so his companions would have enough room. Alfred, though he wasn’t nearly as hungry as he’d been—the fire in his skull was now little more than glowing embers—barely waited for Feliks to settle again before he turned a seductive grin on the faerie who had quietly observed his mate and friend having sex.

“You ready, Toris?”

With a nod, the brunet moved forward and pushed Alfred onto his back. It took a moment for the incubus to shift until his wings were comfortable beneath him, and then Toris had straddled him, his hands braced on Alfred’s strong chest.

“Tail.”

That one word was all the encouragement Alfred needed. The next moment, his tail bore a fresh layer of lubricant and was poised to enter Toris’ glowing body. Alfred set his hands on the brunet’s hips to hold him steady before gently pushing his tail into the smaller male’s entrance, wriggling and twisting slightly as Toris’ back arched and he moaned softly, biting his lip.

“Mm…Alfred…”

Nails dug into Alfred’s chest as the tail inside Toris began to move, pumping and twisting, corkscrewing and rubbing against the faerie’s hot inner walls in search of his prostate. He was considerably gentler with Toris than he had been with Feliks, for the reason that, one, Toris wasn’t nearly as used to being penetrated as Feliks was, and two, Feliks didn’t mind a little pain to compliment his pleasure. But Toris wasn’t masochistic in the slightest—the mere thought of pain was enough to send most faeries into a frightened panic—so Alfred was sure to be as careful as possible while he stretched the smaller male, his eyes closed in concentration.

A sharp gasp made him look up and he grinned at the expression on Toris’ face. The brunet’s jaw had gone slack and his eyes were hooded, the blue darker than normal. Experimentally, Alfred rubbed his tail against the faerie’s inner walls until eyelids fluttered and a moan sounded in his throat as Toris arched his back and partially opened his wings.

“Th-there…” The brunet was almost whining, his voice soft as he shifted and began to grind his hips against Alfred’s. Letting the quiet moan escape, Alfred sent his hand between their bodies and cupped Toris’ erection, palming the length until the faerie was thrusting against his hand. Sounds spilled from his mouth, though they were soft and only grew slightly louder when Alfred’s hand wrapped around the smaller male’s member and squeezed gently.

Spine twisting, Toris curled his toes as a long groan sounded in his throat, his wings fluttering to help him move against the body beneath him. “ _Mano Dieve_ …Alfred… _mane_ …”

Even though he didn’t speak the language, Alfred had heard those few words enough times to know what they meant. Gently, he pulled his tail free and, with his hands on Toris’ hips, helped the faerie lift up onto his knees and positioned himself.

“Ready, Tor?”

Toris nodded and took a deep breath, his entire body relaxing as Alfred slowly and carefully let the smaller male slide down onto his shaft. Nails bit into his chest but he paid them little mind, all his concentration on what he was doing.

Once he was fully sheathed in Toris’ body, the incubus paused for several moments, allowing his meal to regain his breath and his bearings. It wasn’t easy to wait, not since he knew what he was going to feel as soon as they really got going. The brunet shifted cautiously, his teeth digging into his lip, and eventually settled with his knees on either side of Alfred’s hips and his hands braced on the blond’s chest.

“ _Judėti_ …mm…”

Another word he recognized. Slowly, Alfred began to roll his hips, his back lifting off the bed a few inches to increase the movement. Toris merely gasped at first, but soon he was using his knees to push up and slide back down, moving in time with Alfred to increase the friction for them both.

_Sweet. Warm._

The faerie tasted like a sugar rush and soon Alfred was purring deep in his throat, lips curving into a smile as Toris rode him. It was always slow and sweet when he fed from the brunet, always the sort of sex that would have been comparable to making love had it not been for the purpose of food. They made barely a sound, only soft moans and light panting as they moved together, occasionally managing to say the other’s name. Alfred’s hands roamed over glowing thighs and hips, squeezing and rubbing as he let gentle waves of pleasure pour into Toris’ body.

“Deeper,” he commanded, though he was breathless and it sounded more like a request than anything. But he liked the energy he got from the smaller male and wanted more of it, wanted to immerse himself in the warmth and the sugary sweetness that was Toris’ energy because feeding from a faerie or a nymph gave him so much more than humans could, and they tasted so much better. “Toris…”

“I—hnnn—know…” came the breathy reply, and then Toris was shifting, hips still moving up and down as he tried to fit himself onto Alfred’s length in just the right way. The incubus’ grip helped him to adjust his angle until, finally, he felt it and a soft cry escaped him as he stiffened, eyes barely open. “ _Yra ... t-tai gerai_...”

A smirk appeared on Alfred’s face at the moaned words and he gave a quick buck of his hips so that the head of his erection hit Toris’ prostate dead on. The action made the faerie squirm and whimper and he dug his nails into Alfred’s chest, panting as their gazes locked. Toris swallowed thickly, all too familiar with the incubus’ expression, then nodded; he was ready.

Immediately, Alfred put one hand to work rubbing and stroking the brunet’s length, his other reaching up to grab brown locks and pull the smaller male down into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. He swallowed the sounds that left Toris, moans louder than before as he fought for air. Over and over, he thrust his hips upward to hit that most sensitive place inside the faerie’s body until Toris was trembling. His nails dragged down Alfred’s chest and his wings fluttered feebly as his body was wracked by pleasure and heat and need and Alfred could feel him getting close, could tell by the sudden increase in energy he was getting that Toris was on the edge and tipping.

“Toris,” the incubus purred, slowly wrapping his fingers around the brunet’s erection and squeezing just slightly as he dragged his hand from base to tip. Hazy blue eyes stared at him from only an inch away as Toris moaned and panted. “Cum.”

His thumb rubbed over the tip and he bucked at the same time, harder than before so that he all but rammed up against the faerie’s prostate. Toris’ jaw instantly dropped in a silent scream and his eyes went wide as his body shuddered, his seed spilling onto Alfred’s hand and stomach. Simultaneously, a throaty groan ripped from Alfred when the muscles surrounding his member tightened as if they were trying to pull him in deeper. That combined with the heady rush of Toris’ energy had his back arching off the bed, hips lifting to plant himself deep in the faerie’s body as he came.

“Fuck…!”

As soon as the white that had filled both males’ heads began to fade, Alfred collapsed onto the bed and let his eyes slide closed, panting heavily. The weight of Toris resting against him was warm and comforting and he felt the urge to hold the brunet close and fall asleep, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Any moment now, the faerie would regain enough strength to pick himself up and then he would abandon Alfred in favor of going to Feliks, as any mate would. They would fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, and the incubus would be left to clean himself up and find something to do, as always.

So, when Toris stirred and sat up, Alfred looked at him with unreadable blue eyes, watched the brunet carefully separate their bodies. He held in an envious sigh when Feliks woke up at nothing more than a touch on his shoulder and turned to fit himself against Toris’ body. The two were asleep within minutes, and Alfred carefully got up, vanishing into the bathroom.

He didn’t bother turning on the light, his eyes more than capable of seeing perfectly well in the dark. His reflection stared at him from the mirror, glowing blue incubus eyes, the horns that seemed unnaturally black next to his light hair, the tail that was as dexterous as a hand, that he could use to pleasure someone just as well as he could pick up a pencil and write. Slowly, he spread and stretched his wings, studying the way they moved, the glossy black of the feathers. They weren’t very big—spread wide, they matched his span of his arms—but if he needed to, he could fly. There was a certain amount of magic involved with being an incubus, after all.

“Well-fed,” he murmured softly, “but not happy. Has sex ever made you happy, Alfred?”

Once. Maybe twice. But that was years ago—he barely remembered what it felt like to have sex for any reason other than being hungry. He didn’t dare to let himself think it or say it out loud, but in the back of his mind, he hoped Arthur would be able to change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS:  
> Kretyn  
> Polish: “Jerk”  
> Mano Dieve…Alfred…mane…  
> Lithuanian: “My God…Alfred…take me…”  
> Judėti  
> Lithuanian: “Move”  
> Yra ... t-tai gerai…  
> Lithuanian: “There…th-that’s good…”


	8. Chapter 8

It was an odd thing, being an incubus. Of course, Alfred had gotten used to it decades ago. He’d had to just to survive in a world that refused to stop changing. His world had changed. It kept changing. Becoming an incubus was obviously a change he’d never expected. Meeting Feliks was another big change—the nymph was truly one of a kind—and then when he was finally introduced to Toris, well, that change went without saying.

But he’d adjusted. He’d grown and adapted and learned how to survive in this world that changed around him while he remained the same. What he never seemed to get used to, though, was the way he now saw people.

Humans. They were everywhere. Even after so many years as an incubus, Alfred was still surprised by the sheer number of humans there were in the world, and how few mythicals there were by comparison. Yes, at first, it had seemed like there were so many mythicals that he hadn’t known what to do, but that was only in his early years as part of the world humans were oblivious to. Now he knew better. Mythical numbers were painfully low.

_Look at them. They have no idea that we aren’t humans._

Blue eyes lazily examined human after human as they passed by. None of them noticed Alfred and Feliks and Toris as the three sat around a small table enjoying lunch. Why should they? Feliks no longer shimmered, his ears were small and round and his teeth looked like any other’s. Toris, too, had ceased to glow and there was no sign of wings or anything out of place about him at all. And Alfred was hornless, wingless, fangless and tailless. Nymph, faerie and incubus looked for all the world like they were humans—only another mythical would have been able to tell what they really were.

There were no other mythicals in sight. There was a time when going to such a busy place would have seemed like an opportunity to meet other non-human beings, but that wasn’t the case. Going out like this was unusual for a mythical—they tended to mind their own business, and Alfred understood perfectly. Immersing himself in human culture wasn’t pleasant. Unless he was hungry, he had no use for them. Other than Feliks and Toris, he had no friends and he didn’t want to try making friends with humans. They would just grow old and die and leave him, and then what? Make more friends? Watch them grow and die, over and over? No. He didn’t want that. Better to stick with the friends he had and let the humans carry on in their oblivious world. Humans were food and nothing more.

_What about Arthur? He isn’t food._

True. He didn’t want to feed from Arthur. Not just for the sake of feeding, at least. Being hungry would make the action selfish and it would lack the emotion he wanted to have with the green-eyed human. He wanted to make love with the man. Arthur was interesting enough that Alfred didn’t care about the difference in their species. There was no harm in spending the summer with him, right? Come August, he’d go back to America and over time lose contact with Arthur, things would go back to the way they were. No one had to get hurt.

“Feliks, why are we here, again?” Alfred asked, not pausing in his people-watching to look at the nymph sitting across from him.

“So I can, like, check out the latest fashions in London! I have to keep an eye on the competition, you know. Besides, who vacations in London and doesn’t go shopping?” Feliks was halfway through a rather expensive salad and didn’t even spare a glance at the other people in the room. The nymph was much too old to still be interested in the daily lives of humans.

“Well, considering you’re, what, almost a thousand years old? Shouldn’t you be bored with shopping by now?”

The question made Feliks look up and he stared at Alfred as if the taller blond had lost his mind. “How would I get tired of shopping when there’s always new things to look at and try on and buy?”

Alfred shrugged. “I dunno. I think I’d get bored with it. But then, shopping has never really interested me.” He was bored already, if he was honest, though he didn’t bother saying it because he knew it wouldn’t make any difference. Feliks had chosen the mall as their location for the day and they’d arrived just in time to grab some lunch. As soon as the nymph finished his salad, they would join the crowd of shoppers and spend the rest of their day wandering from store to store. And Alfred had no doubts that he would end up playing Ken Doll for his friend and employer.

“Feliks,” Toris spoke up for the first time since they’d sat down with their food, “maybe we should cut shopping short today.”

Instantly, the green-eyed blond’s expression morphed into a pout. “Why?”

Smiling gently, Toris leaned closer to his mate and slipped an arm around the nymph’s waist, nuzzling Feliks’ cheek. “So we can spend the evening together.”

Even though it was whispered, Alfred heard Toris perfectly well and quickly stamped out a flash of jealousy. There was no reason for him to be jealous of Feliks and Toris. They were good together and he wasn’t romantically attracted to either of them, anyway. So he fixed a relaxed grin in place and leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, you should do that. Maybe I’ll see if Arthur wants to go for a walk or something.”

“Well,” Feliks hesitated, looking between Toris and Alfred with uncertain green eyes, “doesn’t Arthur have work in the morning? And you just saw him last night. He might feel, like, smothered if you ask to see him again so soon.”

True. He hadn’t thought of that. “Then I’ll find something else to do. We’re in London—I doubt I’ll get bored even if I just wander around for a few hours. You guys can have the hotel for the evening. Just don’t go into my room.”

“Even though we were in there earlier today?” There was a clear teasing edge to Feliks’ tone as he referenced Alfred’s “meal” from that morning. “What’s the difference between then and tonight?”

Alfred looked the smaller male straight in the eye, his expression neutral. “The difference is that I won’t be there, so no screwing in my room. You’ve got your own room plus the rest of the suite to play in. Leave my room out of it.”

Dramatic, Feliks let out a sigh and propped his chin in his hand. “Fine, I suppose we’ll be satisfied with that. Right, Tor?”

“Yeah.” A rare smirk appeared on the faerie’s face as he looked back at his mate. “We’ll definitely be satisfied.”

It was impossible for Alfred to hold back a slightly disgusted expression. “I swear, I don’t know how you two have so much sex. It’s unnatural.”

Feliks giggled and slipped his hand into Toris’, standing. “You’d be the same as us if you had a mate, Incubutt. Now come on—I want to see what they’ve got for sale in this place.”

He didn’t say anything, but Alfred wasn’t sure if he believed the nymph. Would he be the same as them? It was hard to say. Incubi were so different from other mythicals that making a comparison was all but useless. Besides, he’d never met a mythical he would consider mating with.

_If only Arthur wasn’t a human…_

No, he shouldn’t think that. He liked Arthur just the way he was, human or otherwise. Though, it was true, if Arthur hadn’t been human, Alfred would have already seriously considered making the Briton his mate. There were ways for a human to become a mythical, but none of them were exactly pleasant, and Alfred couldn’t do anything himself. He didn’t like the idea of some other mythical getting their hands on his Arthur even for a moment, so he refused to consider the methods he knew of.

_Huh. My Arthur. I didn’t realize I’d gotten so possessive already. I guess Arthur really is special._

X

Head nodding in time to the tempo, Arthur relaxed against the side of his bathtub. The warm water was like heaven, caressing and cradling his body as if it would take away any pain or discomfort or worry he’d ever felt. His bathroom softly echoed back the music emitting from the record player set up just outside the door, and the song filled his ears, beautiful and perfect. There was a cup of freshly made tea on a small table where he would be able to reach it if he wanted, but for now his attention was focused on the bubbles.

Mounds of them, iridescent and weightless, drifted on the water’s surface and clung to his skin. He stirred them with his hand, watched them spin around then slow and eventually stop. There was nothing more relaxing than this. Warm, clean water, hot tea, Mozart. What more did he need?

_Alfred hasn’t called back yet._

He wasn’t bothered by it, necessarily, but he wondered what the American was doing that he was so busy. It couldn’t possibly be that he was still eating lunch—not at nearly four in the afternoon.

_But he has jetlag. It’s lunchtime where he’s from._

That was something he kept having to remind himself of. It was easy to forget the difference in time zones and he almost felt bad for it, though he knew he shouldn’t. Besides, Alfred himself had said he needed to get used to the new time zone so there was little point in him forcing himself to remember.

Idly, the Englishman let his head rest on the lip of the tub and looked up at the ceiling. This was his only plan for the day, to enjoy a bubble bath before dinner then spend the evening reading or watching TV. Perhaps he would write a poem or two, if the mood struck him. He could write a poem about Alfred. Yes, that would be easy. Writing poetry about the American would be all too easy, unless he couldn’t do the handsome tourist justice. But that was the beauty of poetry—the language was constructed for expressing emotions. As long as he was honest, the poem would be good enough.

_He’ll want to read it. Ah, but that would be embarrassing. Should I let him? Maybe…if I tell him I’m writing it. But it could give him the wrong idea. Or is it the right idea?_

“I like him. That much is obvious.” Arthur’s eyes fell closed and he sighed quietly. “But poetry is about more than liking someone. If I write a poem about Alfred…it will sound like love.”

It was definitely too soon for a word like that. Arthur had never used that word for any of the people he’d dated. He hadn’t felt that strongly about anyone outside his own family, and even then it was questionable whether or not he was willing to admit that he loved his troublemaker older brothers.

“It would be easy to write, though.”

And why not? He was on a whirlwind romance adventure—what was wrong with a little love-sick poetry?

_Everything about you pains my envying_

_Your soul can't hate anything_

_Everything about you is so easy to love_

_They're watching you from above_

_Give me all the peace and joy in your mind_

_I want the peace and joy in your mind_

_Give me the peace and joy in your mind_

_Everything about you resonates happiness_

_Now I won't settle for less_

The ringtone startled Arthur and he sat up, the water swishing quietly as the bubbles were thrown into a short frenzy. He knew who it was that had decided to either call or text him and couldn’t help but smile as he reached for where his phone sat next to his cup of tea. He almost dropped it in the water in his excitement to answer, though he managed to catch it and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

_“Hey, Artie, what’s up?”_

Arthur leaned back again and stretched his legs out under the water. “Enjoying a bubble bath.”

_“You didn’t have to answer if you’re busy.”_

He could hear the surprise and slight embarrassment in the American’s tone—it was actually rather cute. “It’s all right, Alfred. I don’t mind. Besides, it’s not as if you can see me.”

 _“I wouldn’t mind that,”_ came the muttered response, and Arthur blushed because he was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it. _“Well, I’m glad I didn’t interrupt you or anything.”_

A smirk replaced Arthur’s smile and he settled more comfortably, making sure to swish the water around loud enough for Alfred to hear through the phone. “Who says you didn’t? There are all sorts of things to do in a bubble bath, Alfred.” He let a suggestive tone take over his voice, imagining that Alfred’s face turned red at the implications.

_“Like what?”_

“Oh, you know…sometimes I light candles and turn all the lights off, have a glass of wine…it sounds cliché, I know, but it’s marvelously relaxing. I’m listening to Mozart today, and playing with the bubbles.”

_“I thought I could hear music in the background. Your bath sounds great.”_

“Yes, though it can be a bit lonely,” the Brit admitted, making sure to sound properly sad about it even though he couldn’t stop smiling. “I’ve never shared a bath with someone else before, but it sounds like a lovely idea.”

_“Maybe that guy you went out with yesterday could join you. I bet he’d enjoy it.”_

“I’m positive he would, but I’m not sure if I want to share something as intimate as a bath with him.”

 _“Why not?”_ Alfred sounded vaguely offended and it wasn’t difficult for Arthur to imagine the taller blond had started to pout.

“Hmmm…how do I put this?” Thoughtful, Arthur trailed his finger over the surface of the water and watched the bubbles move around. “He’s extraordinarily kissable and my bath probably wouldn’t stay a bath if he were to join me.”

_“I see. Is that a bad thing or a good thing?”_

Arthur chuckled as he considered the question, reaching over to pick up his cup of tea and taking a sip. _The wrong idea…or the right idea?_ “That depends.”

_“On?”_

“If he knows what he’s doing or not.”

_“What if he knows exactly what he’s doing?”_

Another sip. “Then I can only assume he’s had many partners or a great deal of experience. In which case, I would feel…inadequate. I would worry about measuring up to his previous lovers, and I would wonder if I was nothing more than a fling or a conquest.” They were legitimate fears, ones that Arthur would never have been able to admit in person or if they’d been speaking in any way other than this strange game. But somehow, lying in a bathtub full of warm, soapy water with the taste of tea on his tongue and Mozart playing in the background, it was easy to tell Alfred. It was like he knew the American wouldn’t tease him about it. “I’m sure you can understand my hesitance to become involved with him.”

_“And what if he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing? What if he’s a blushing virgin?”_

The question almost made Arthur choke on his tea. No way was Alfred a blushing virgin. It just wasn’t possible. “I highly doubt that,” the green-eyed blond began once he’d stopped coughing and regained his breath, “but if that’s the case, then I don’t think I’m qualified to be his first lover. That’s a very special part of a young person’s life, after all.”

_“How do you know he doesn’t want you to be his first? He could be falling in love with you.”_

“Already? I hardly think that’s likely, Alfred.” Smiling, he sipped his tea and slid down into the tub a little farther. “Not with looks like his. He could have anyone he wanted. Why on earth would he fall for someone like me?”

_“Maybe because you didn’t fall for him right away. Maybe he likes that you’re different.”_

His tone softer than before, Arthur contemplated what was left of his tea as he responded. “Different isn’t usually a good thing.”

_“But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I say you give him a chance. You never know where it could lead. Besides, I know for a fact that he’s excited to see you again on Thursday, and that he loves how green your eyes are, and the way you blush and mutter when you’re embarrassed, and how when you kissed him, you—”_

“All right, all right!” Arthur interrupted before the American could say anything inappropriate, his cheeks flaming. “I get it—he likes me. And I like him, too, but I don’t think I’ll be inviting him to share my bath any time soon. That will have to wait for the fifth date, at least.” Naturally, he was only joking. Something as intimate as a bath would normally have to wait until they were in an official relationship for at least six weeks before Arthur would even consider it. But with Alfred, he never knew what rules would be thrown out the window.

A chuckle sounded through the phone and Arthur carefully placed his cup back on the table. _“I’m sure he’ll be looking forward to that.”_

“So will I. Now, I’m finished with my bath and need to get rinsed off, so I’ll have to let you go, Alfred. But it was lovely talking to you.”

_“I’m glad you answered. It was a nice conversation. Feel free to call me whenever you’re free tomorrow—you should probably tell me what the dress code is for that party on Thursday so I don’t do anything ‘too American.’”_

The reminder of his lack of tact made Arthur wince but he forced a laugh. “I’ll be sure to do that. Goodbye, Alfred.”

_“Bye, Artie.”_

With a soft beep, the call disconnected and Arthur spent several moments staring at his phone. An idea had occurred to him, one that he’d never tried before and one that he would certainly be embarrassed by if anyone ever found out about it. Still, it was tempting…

_Be brave, Arthur._

The Englishman took a deep breath before clicking the camera option on his phone, lifting it up into the air above himself, and smiling playfully before he took the picture. Inspection of the resulting image revealed that it wasn’t too inappropriate, though he would definitely die of shame should anyone but himself or his intended recipient ever see it. Another deep breath steadied him, then Arthur converted the image into a message and hit Send before he had a chance to change his mind.

Alfred was about to get a surprise.


	9. Chapter 9

His grey shirt neatly tucked into black dress pants, white tie straight and tight and hair perfectly combed, Arthur walked into the bank with his head held high. He was even smiling a little, which was unusual for him because he took work very seriously and usually tried to show that in his appearance and expression and actions. But today he was smug. Today, he was going to let his coworkers know that he wasn’t as boring as they all thought he was.

“Lookin’ good, Kirkland,” a voice called, and the blond turned his head to see a tall male with white hair and red eyes striding towards him. “Have a good veekend?”

Arthur’s smile widened and he turned to face the approaching man. “Good morning, Gilbert. And yes, my weekend was…unexpectedly pleasant.”

Interest lit up the taller male’s eyes and he leaned against the wall of a cubicle, his lanky frame stretched out comfortably as he grinned. “Vhat vas so unexpected about it?”

Eyes falling halfway shut, Arthur tugged at his cuffs to straighten his sleeves. “I met someone.”

“Really? Who?”

“A tourist,” Arthur replied lightly, then continued on his way towards his office without so much as a glance at the other man. Even though there was no immediate response, Arthur had no doubts that Gilbert was going to interrogate him.

“Hey, Arzhur!”

There it was.

Quick footsteps sounded behind him but the Brit kept walking. He knew Gilbert would follow him all the way to his office now that he was curious. Within moments, the albino had caught up with him and slowed to match his pace.

“You can’t say somezhing like zhat _und_ just valk avay, Arzhur,” the taller male chided him, and the blond let out an amused chuckle.

“I think I can, actually.” He enjoyed the fact that Gilbert was so curious about the person who had made his weekend “unexpectedly pleasant.” It was nice to be able to walk into the bank with his head up for once, not that he ever went to work looking down. But today he’d appeared especially content and Arthur knew it, because after he’d sent that picture to Alfred yesterday afternoon, he’d felt like a bloody king.

Sexy photos were something he’d always wanted to try but not something he’d ever been brave enough or trusted his partner enough to actually do. Sending Alfred that picture had gotten him all but worshipped by the American and Arthur was still caught in the sense of victory.

Gilbert shut the door behind them once they entered Arthur’s office, and he managed to hold back his questions until the slighter man had settled behind his desk. “Now, are you going to tell me about zhis tourist or do I have to steal your phone again?”

Ah, yes, he’d forgotten about that little habit of the Prussian’s. There was no doubt in Arthur’s mind that Gilbert would indeed filch his phone at the first opportunity and text any unfamiliar names he found in the contacts list—doing so would undoubtedly lead to the discovery of Alfred’s number, and if he went through their messages, he would see the picture. The mere thought of Gilbert having that to lord over him made the Brit’s ears burn and he discreetly patted his pocket to make sure his phone was still safe and not already in his coworker’s overly talented hands.

It was probably best to give Gilbert enough information to keep him from theft, though Arthur had zero intentions of telling his white-haired coworker _every_ thing. That would take all the fun out of this.

“I met him on Friday night.”

One of Gilbert’s eyebrows went up and he placed his hands on the surface of Arthur’s desk, leaning his weight forward on them so he was only about a foot away from the other man. “Vhere?”

“A pub.” Arthur feigned disinterest, instead opening his briefcase and preparing his papers and folders for his first task of the day. “I stopped in for my usual drink after work.”

“So he vaz zhere _und_ you vent to talk to him?”

A distracted shake of his head was the only answer Arthur gave, and he could already tell Gilbert was losing his patience and getting more curious.

“C’mon, Arzhur, tell me vhat happened!” Gilbert was almost whining and it put a smirk on the golden blond’s lips. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and met red eyes with green.

“I was minding my own business when he came up and started talking to me. Satisfied?”

“ _Nein,_ I’m not satisfied. If zhis guy made your veekend pleasant, zhen zhere has to be more to it zhan zhat. Tell me about him.”

“Why?” Arthur let a sly smile take over his features. “You’ll meet him on Thursday, regardless.”

That seemed to catch the albino off-guard. “You’re bringing him to zhe faculty party?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. I think it’ll be interesting to see him meet my coworkers and friends…it will only be our second date, after all.”

“Second?” Gilbert grinned. “How vas your first? Did he ask you out in zhe pub? Vhere did you go?”

With a patient sigh, Arthur began shuffling through his papers once more and got his desk a little more organized so he wouldn’t lose track of anything important. “It was lovely. Yes. A restaurant on Canary Wharf.”

“Vhat does he look like?”

“He’s American.”

It was quiet for a moment as Gilbert stared at the seated man. “Zhat doesn’t tell me anyzhing!”

“He’s also a model, if that helps.” The casual tone he used caught Gilbert by surprise and he straightened, blinking and frowning.

“You’re bringing an American model to zhe faculty party on Zhursday as your Plus Vone.”

Leaning forward, Arthur braced his elbows on his desk and laced his fingers, resting his chin on them. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

Gilbert shook his head. “Of course not. I’m just surprised—an American model visiting as a tourist. I didn’t know you had zhat much game, Arzhur. I’m impressed.”

Pleased by the compliment, Arthur chuckled. “I admit, I was a bit surprised myself, though I’m far from disappointed. He’s very kissable, after all.”

“You kissed him?” Gilbert’s tone was one of pure disbelief. “You, Arzhur Kirkland, prude extraordinaire, have already kissed zhe man you met two days ago?”

“I didn’t say that. I said he’s kissable. That’s quite a difference, Gilbert.” He paused, frowning slightly. “And I’m _not_ a prude, I simply like to take things at a more leisurely pace than you do.”

That made the albino laugh and he slipped his hands into his pockets, grinning. “ _Ja,_ if I’d met zhis tourist, I might have slept vizh him by now.”

_He wouldn’t turn you down._

Arthur surprised himself by thinking it. There was no reason for him to think that Alfred would sleep with Gilbert if he was given the chance. But then, why shouldn’t he?

_He’s young and handsome and charming, and on vacation. Why shouldn’t he enjoy himself a little? If he hadn’t met me in that pub, he easily could have hooked up with almost any of the other people there. But he chose me, and even after I turned him down for what he wanted, he still asked me out. And he ignored that waitress, so maybe he wouldn’t have slept with Gilbert. Or am I a fluke? He didn’t seem like he was looking for a boyfriend when we met…_

Thinking about it was giving him a headache so Arthur shoved the thoughts away and focused on his work once more. Why on earth was he suddenly having doubts? Part of him didn’t want Alfred to meet Gilbert now because of that comment, but he couldn’t exactly stop it from happening if he wanted the American to come to the faculty party with him. And yet the thought made him nervous. What if Alfred decided he was more attracted to Gilbert than he was to Arthur? If Gilbert came onto him, would he say no? It was nice to think he would react just as he had to the waitress, but he would probably want to be nice to Gilbert to make a good impression on Arthur’s friends.

_Bloody…get a grip, Kirkland. Alfred won’t do anything with Gilbert._

Something tapped Arthur’s forehead and he blinked a few times before looking up to find Gilbert staring at him in concern. “What?”

“You spaced out on me. Somezhing wrong?”

The Briton smiled and shook his head. “No, just lost in thought. Sorry. Did you have any more questions?”

“Tons.” Gilbert chuckled. “But zhey can vait, I guess. Zhursday isn’t zhat far avay.”

“Only a few days,” Arthur replied, smiling back at the other man.

Despite Gilbert’s claim that he could wait to satisfy his curiosity, it was easy to tell that the albino was dying to know all about the mysterious American model tourist Arthur was purposefully being so vague about. But he was a stubborn man and wouldn’t waste much of his time prying now that Arthur had made up his mind. The Brit could be as stubborn as Gilbert could, so they both knew he wasn’t going to say any more than he wanted to.

“Vell, I’ll see you at lunch, Arzhur,” the taller male grinned, winked and then left, his hands tucked into his pockets as he all but swaggered out of the office. Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle, amused as always by his coworker’s antics.

Before getting to know Gilbert, he hadn’t quite understood how the albino ever managed to get a job at a bank. He was cocky, almost arrogant, and loud. Arthur’s first impression of him was that he would be pushy and get on clients’ nerves. But, somehow, the Prussian managed to make friends with almost everyone who walked in those doors. He was a valuable clerk and knew a great deal more about business than he let on, and he was extremely organized despite his laid-back attitude.

_Only a few days._

Thursday couldn’t come fast enough.

X

_I can’t believe he sent this to me._

Blue eyes were locked on a small screen, examining the image there.

_He’s been so proper this whole time and now this? Damn, this guy’s full of surprises._

Shaking his head, Alfred put his phone down and forced himself to focus. What was he on? Thirty-four? Yeah. His muscles tensed as he lifted himself off the floor and quickly lowered again, almost but not quite touching the rug.

“Thirty-five.”

Up then down.

“Thirty-six.”

Again.

“Thirty-seven.”

Only thirteen to go and he’d be done with his second set of pushups for the day. Already, he’d gone for a run—over five miles—and stopped in the hotel’s gym to lift weights and explore the equipment. The only thing he had left after this was his third set of one hundred curls for the day. Normally, his workouts didn’t take as long as this one was, but he kept getting distracted. The photo Arthur had texted to him the night before plagued his thoughts and made him lose track of his counting. He’d already looked at it more times than he could count since he’d woken up.

“Forty-eight. Forty-nine. Fifty.”

Satisfied, the American pushed himself up and stood, a slight grin on his handsome face. His limbs trembled slightly with the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him after such a long workout, but he paid it little mind. He’d be fine in less than an hour since he recovered so quickly. By the time he showered and found something to eat, all of his energy would return.

His movements swift, he bent down and picked up his phone then left the living room in favor of his temporary bedroom, heading straight for the bathroom and its shower. Toris and Feliks were out for the day, so he had the hotel suite to himself. So far, he’d taken the time to work out and hadn’t done anything else, but the nymph and faerie wouldn’t be back for hours yet so he wasn’t in a hurry to get anything done before they returned.

Almost without meaning to, he clicked his phone’s photo storage open and selected the image. How had he managed to find someone like Arthur? It still amazed him that the Brit had admitted to being worried he would lose his self-control around the American—he was pleased by it, all the same—and then sent him this picture. Really, it was one of the sexiest pictures Alfred had ever received, and he couldn’t even see that much. The bubbles covered the majority of Arthur’s anatomy, and only his shoulders, arms, head and knees were above the surface of the water. Still, his hair was damp and pushed back out of his face, his pale skin glistened with water and his expression was somewhere between an innocent smile and a playful smirk that Alfred couldn’t figure out but it drove him mad.

_This guy is nuts. He’s crazy. How can he go from lecturing me about being cocky in that pub, then kiss me three times on our first date the next day, and now send me a dirty picture after basically admitting that if we took a bath together, we’d have sex?_

“I don’t have a clue what I’m doing,” he admitted to his reflection, “and Arthur’s calling all the shots. I can’t even get my bearing before he switches things up again.”

Resigned to being all but helpless in this almost-relationship that Alfred had somehow gotten into, he closed out of the image yet again and put his phone on the counter. One article at a time, he removed his clothing—athletic shorts, boxers and a worn old t-shirt with the sleeves cut off—and stretched extensively.

“Mm…” It felt good to work out and stretch like this, and he didn’t mind being a little sweaty. Sweat could be sexy if you did it right, and Alfred definitely did it right. Even looking at himself in the mirror, at the way his hair was darker than normal, damp and messy, the drops of sweat that had yet to cool off and dry that only made his muscles that much more noticeable. And of course, having just finished working out, his muscles were even more defined than normal.

Alfred wasn’t the type to compliment his own reflection, but he knew he was attractive. Came with the territory of being an incubus, after all. Still, the moment he took off his glasses and turned from the mirror, his own appearance vanished from his thoughts and he was thinking of Arthur again. Just picturing the Englishman sprawled out in a bathtub, surrounded by candles and sipping the wine he’d described, made Alfred feel warm. And that was a surprise.

He wasn’t hungry. Feeding from Feliks and Toris would keep his incubus appetite satisfied for a few days, at least. And yet thinking about Arthur was making him…horny.

 _I haven’t been_ horny _since I hit puberty as a human. Incubi don’t get_ horny. _We get hungry and that’s it. Sex is for food, not for pleasure or because we’re attracted to someone. How the fuck does Arthur make me_ horny _?_

It didn’t make sense. In all his years as an incubus, he’d never encountered this before. Feeling it now was confusing and a little bit frightening. Yeah, he’d known from the start that Arthur was different because the human somehow hadn’t fallen for his charms. The way he’d flirted with him, the Brit should have been tripping over himself to accept Alfred’s offer. But, instead, he’d been offended and even had the nerve to scold a complete stranger.

_He’s special. There’s more to him than I thought._

And still, as he turned on the water and began rubbing shampoo into his hair, eyes closed to protect them, he couldn’t help but continue thinking about the paler man. His body felt hotter than he could ever remember it being without the sun or exercise or sex to warm him up. Not even the water was warm enough to make him feel so over heated.

“Damn.”

Glancing down, he knew he was in trouble. There was no hunger raging in his skull and yet he was hard as if he hadn’t fed in days. What the hell was going on? He was aroused by the mere thought of Arthur! Yeah, okay, so he’d admitted to Feliks that he didn’t want to use the green-eyed man for food, that he thought maybe he’d actually make love with him, but he hadn’t expected it to work. That had been wishful thinking and little more, and yet…

_Could I…?_

It was worth a try, he supposed. If he could get turned on thinking about Arthur, then shouldn’t he be able to get off thinking about him, too? He hadn’t masturbated since his teenage years as a human…would it even work, now that he was an incubus? He’d tried it before and it had never done anything for his hunger, but this wasn’t hunger. This was arousal and being _horny_ because damn Arthur was a sexy little bastard and he was good at kissing and when he acted all superior and a little bit bossy like in that restaurant after Alfred made him the Boss, it was irresistible.

The more he thought about it, the more Alfred wanted to try. He wanted to know if he could satisfy his desire for Arthur on his own, at least temporarily. If he could, there was a world of things it could mean, and that made him nervous. Stalling for time, he scrubbed himself thoroughly, making sure to remove every trace of sweat and oil and general filth from his body.

 _I’ll try,_ he decided as he rinsed the suds from his hair and body, let the warm water run over him and to the floor. It was a large shower, definitely big enough for him to do this in, and if he was going to masturbate he was gonna do it in the shower where it would be easy to clean up. _If it doesn’t work then it doesn’t work, and I’ll just have to ignore it until I calm down. No more looking at that picture or thinking about Arthur. But if it works…I’ll have to find dear old Dad. He’s the only one who knows enough about incubi to make any of this make sense._

His mind made up and his body now clean, Alfred took a deep breath and slowly lowered himself to kneel on the shower floor, sitting back on his heels. Time to see if Arthur really was as different as Alfred wanted him to be.


	10. Chapter 10

He’d turned the lights off because they made him feel exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. Not even being almost naked in front of flashing cameras could make him self-conscious. In all his years, he’d never felt so uncomfortable, so unsure about what he was supposed to do next. Even during his early years as an incubus, he’d had his creator there to guide him and teach him how to live in his new form. But Alfred was on his own now, and was sitting in the darkened hotel suite while he waited for Feliks and Toris to get back so he could talk to them.

Fingers impatiently tapped on the arm of the couch he was sitting on, blue eyes locked on the door. Any minute now. They’d texted him to let him know when they were on their way back—he knew they would be there soon.

The sound of familiar laughter reached him several moments before the door opened, letting light into the room as Feliks and Toris walked in. Both males paused to see that all the lights were off, though their eyes easily found Alfred’s form on the couch.

“What’s with the creepy set up?” Feliks asked, making his way into the suite as Toris shut the door and turned the lights back on. Alfred almost flinched at the brightness, not because it hurt his eyes, but because he felt like he was laid out for the world to see and pick him apart.

“I…need to talk to you guys,” the incubus said slowly, gaze lowered uncharacteristically. Usually, he was all about making eye contact. It showed confidence and focus and helped to read other people’s emotions and thoughts. The fact that he couldn’t even look his two best friends in the eye was proof that something was wrong.

“Alfred, what’s the matter?” Feliks asked in hushed tones, sitting beside the taller blond and touching his arm in concern. Silent, Toris sat on his other side and patiently waited for his response.

Nervous about what he had to say, Alfred chewed his lip for several moments. “I called him today.”

“Who?”

Blue eyes glanced to meet green before Alfred hid his face in his hands. “My father.”

That earned a surprised intake of breath from both of his companions, and Alfred let out a shuddering sigh.

“I had to. It’s…this thing with Arthur, I don’t know what it is. He’s human but he didn’t fall for me in the pub, and kissing him is like…he’s so perfect, you know? But I have no fucking idea what the hell I’m doing and he sent me a really sexy picture and it made me horny but incubi aren’t supposed to get horny we just get hungry so I don’t know what to do and hell I masturbated for the first time in over two hundred years so what am I supposed to do? He’s human and I’m not but damn it I really like him!” He pushed all the words out in a rush, afraid that if he tried to speak any slower he would get stuck somewhere and wouldn’t be able to get it all out. The other two males were staring at him, probably in shock, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at them. All of this was so messed up. An incubus, tearing himself up over a human? It wasn’t supposed to work like that, and so he’d called his father, one of the two mythicals who had turned him into what he was, in order to ask for advice. What he’d been told had only made this harder.

“So what did he say?” Toris asked after several moments had passed, his tone much calmer than Alfred’s had been. The incubus sighed again.

“He congratulated me, the bastard. It’s like he thinks me being hung up on Arthur is something to celebrate. How is this in any way a good thing? I want to be with him, but I can’t. Unless he’s got the sex-drive of a pubescent teenager, he’s not going to want me as often as I need to feed and I don’t want to have to cheat on him. I don’t want him to be just a source of food, either.”

Upset, he finally managed to sit up again and looked between the nymph and fairie sitting beside him. “You know I haven’t been genuinely attracted to someone like this in two and a half centuries? It was always for food, never because I actually wanted to be with them or liked them. I was just hungry. Now I found Arthur and nothing makes sense any more, and my so-called dad was completely useless when I called him to get some advice.”

“Well,” Feliks somewhat timidly spoke up, “maybe he thinks Arthur’s your mate and that’s why he congratulated you. It’d explain why he’s, like, immune to your incubus powers, wouldn’t it?”

Shrugging, Alfred ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Does it work like that? No one ever told me, the few other incubi and succubi I’ve met don’t have mates and they didn’t seem to want one. Can I even have a mate? I mean…you guys are bonded mates. What does that mean for you?”

It was quiet as Feliks and Toris looked at each other, both smiling.

“It means we’re never alone,” the nymph began, a light blush appearing on his cheeks, “that, no matter what, we have each other.”

“We always know where the other is, what they’re doing.” Toris reached past Alfred and took Feliks’ hand into his own, lacing their fingers. “It’s a mental connection, and a physical one. Being away from each other for too long can be physically painful…but being together…nothing compares to that. It’s bliss.” His voice lowered to little more than a whisper as he spoke, gaze locked with the green-eyed blond on the other end of the couch. Feliks’ face had turned a pleased shade of red and he looked about ready to crawl right over Alfred to put himself on the faerie’s lap and reaffirm their bond right then and there. Seeing it put that familiar bitter taste of jealousy in the back of Alfred’s throat.

Damn it, he wanted to have a connection like that with someone. He was tired of partner after partner being in love with him for a night or two then fading back into the human world he’d been stolen from so many years ago. Sex for food was fine and all but being around two people so obviously in love like Toris and Feliks were made him want something more than just food. He wanted to make love for once. He wanted to make love with Arthur.

“So let’s say Arthur is supposed to be my mate,” he began slowly, blue eyes locked on the carpet once more, “what am I supposed to do about it?”

“You mate with him, of course,” Feliks said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” Frustrated, Alfred rose from the couch and paced for a moment, hands clasped behind his back. “I like him. That’s easy. He’s funny and smart and he’s definitely sexy. I like his laugh and his voice and his smile, his eyes and his hair…he’s fucking perfect, okay? Even this weird game we’re playing is more fun than I would’ve thought it’d be. I just saw him on Saturday and talked to him yesterday but I miss him like crazy anyway and I don’t think I can wait until Thursday to see him again. I’d sleep with him in an instant but only if he really wanted to, and I wouldn’t use any of my powers to do it because that wouldn’t be fair to him even though he’s practically immune to me. I want to see him smile every single day, spend the rest of my life with him.” He rounded on his companions, desperate for some sort of advice or reassurance. “Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?”

Feliks had the biggest smile Alfred had ever seen on the nymph’s face. “You’re totally in love with him.”

Love. The word brought him up short. He’d never been in love before. There hadn’t been time. Could he really be in love with Arthur? Even though he’d only known him for a few days, he’d never felt like this about anyone before…

“Shit.” Moving slowly, the incubus lowered himself into one of the plush chairs in their living room and put a hand over his eyes. Not good. This was not good. Falling in love with a human was the wrong thing to do.

Confused and worried about their friend, Feliks and Toris exchanged glances before they got up and went to the larger male.

“What’s wrong, Alfred?” Toris asked, kneeling beside the chair so that he could look up into the blond’s face. 

“I can’t be in love with Arthur,” came the muttered response, slightly muffled. It put a disappointed frown on Feliks’ face.

“Why not? I think he’s good for you,” the nymph insisted. “What’s wrong with being in love with him?”

Silence filled the apartment as brunet and blond waited for Alfred to give his reasoning, but the American couldn’t manage to get the words out. It was wrong because it couldn’t work. It would never work.

“It’s…he’s human, Fe. Human. Even if I did manage to mate with him, he’ll grow old and die and I won’t. If he doesn’t want to have sex and I need to feed, I’ll have to cheat on him. And how am I supposed to tell him what I am? Who in their right mind would believe me, especially in this day and age? He’d think I’m insane, accuse me of lying or being a sex addict and refuse to ever speak to me or see me again. I could try to keep it a secret, but then he wouldn’t really know me and I don’t want that.” He was starting to think all of this was completely pointless, that he never should have gone up to Arthur in the pub that night. Things would be easier if he hadn’t, but no, he’d been smitten and just had to talk to the Brit, had to be scolded and trip over himself to apologize, take the man on a date and try his hardest to win him over. Not seduce him, win him over.

_I really am in love with him…fuck me. No wonder dad was so excited._

Timid, Feliks leaned his weight on the side of the chair and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “You could turn him.”

Two pairs of blue eyes looked up at the nymph. “What?” Alfred asked, sure he’d heard wrong.

“Well, if the main problem is that he’s human, then turn him into a mythical,” the green-eyed blond explained. “Then he’d be immortal, too, and you could, like, teach him how to be part of our world and stuff.”

It was a legitimate idea, but the more Alfred thought about it, the less he liked it. “But what sort of mythical would I turn him into?” There weren’t exactly many to choose from. Most mythicals were born that way and only certain ones had the ability to turn humans, though it wasn’t easy to do so even for powerful mythicals. Choosing one to turn Arthur wouldn’t be easy, and actually turning him would be ten times harder.

His expression now thoughtful, Feliks considered the question, though it was Toris who spoke first.

“An incubus, so that you can feed from each other,” the brunet suggested, and Feliks nodded his agreement. But Alfred’s mind went to the process of becoming an incubus, his memories of that night still so clear despite the passing of time. No. No way in hell was he going to let anyone do that to Arthur.

“Fuck no. You think he’d be okay with having that done to him? I wasn’t okay with it in 1781 when I was turned and I seriously doubt I could stand by and let it happen to Arthur. Besides, I’d get really, really fucking jealous,” he added, and his friends nodded because they knew what it took to be turned into an incubus and it wasn’t something done lightly. Alfred was practically a fluke, a joke, even. It wasn’t supposed to work on him. “Besides, if I’m really in love with him, then I love him just the way he is and wouldn’t change him for the world.”

This was all so complicated and it was starting to give him a headache. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, didn’t want to think about it, so he stood again and straightened his clothes. “I need some time to think. I’ll be back later.” Grabbing his coat, the bespectacled blond left the hotel without a backwards glance and headed straight for the front door. The sun was starting to go down as he walked along the streets, not really paying attention to where he was going.

_This isn’t fair. I didn’t do anything to deserve this. All I did was accept a drink from a kind stranger and the next thing I know, I’m not a human anymore. Bastards made me into an incubus by fucking accident and didn’t even apologize. They barely stuck around long enough to keep me from dying and I’ve heard from them, what, four times since? Assholes. I should have gotten married and grown old and died centuries ago but I’m fucking stuck here and now there’s Arthur…_

In all honesty, he did consider the Brit someone worth waiting a few hundred years to meet. It was easy to imagine he’d become a mythical and lived so long because he was meant to meet the golden blond, meant to fall in love with him. But if all of this was destined to be, then why was it so hard to understand?

“Sucks to be a sex demon,” he muttered, lifting his head to survey his surroundings. To his surprise, he found he’d wandered to that same street as his first night out exploring in search of a meal. The pub where he’d met Arthur was only a few buildings away and hope filled him to think the smaller man might be there now. Quick steps carried him down the sidewalk to the front door and he entered the building as casually as he could, blue-eyed gaze sweeping over the people there. Disappointment replaced the hope—no Arthur.

Dejected, he approached the bar and slid onto one of the stools. Might as well have a drink while he was there before heading back to the hotel. “Whiskey, straight,” he told the bartender, and the stern-faced man turned to get him his drink.

“Vhiskey, huh?” an unfamiliar voice asked, and Alfred turned to find himself looking at one of the strangest humans he’d ever seen. Red eyes and white hair, a cocky grin on a pale face that was still handsome. Disconcerting but intriguing, that’s what this human was. An albino. His grin grew and the stranger stuck his hand out for Alfred to shake. “I’m Gilbert.”

“Alfred,” he replied, curious about this man. People came up to him often enough, but he hadn’t even been looking to be talked to.

“Nice to meet you,” Gilbert replied, occupying the chair beside Alfred’s and resting his forearm on the bar top. “American, _ja?_ ”

The blond nodded, not at all surprised that his accent had been recognized by this man. “I’m on vacation.”

“Hm.” Thoughtful, Gilbert tapped the wood under his fingers for a moment and Alfred was tempted to ask what he was so focused on. He didn’t, though, since it wasn’t any of his business, and took another drink from his glass. “ _Und_ vhat do you do for a living, Alfred?”

How many people was he going to meet in this bar?

“I’m a model.”

Interest sparked in those red eyes, and the way Gilbert set his mouth was distinctly smug though Alfred wasn’t sure why that would be. “Impressive. Vhy did you decide to vacation here in London? Surely Las Vegas or L.A. or Paris vould be more suited to a model.”

Shrugging, Alfred swirled his drink in his glass. “I’m here courtesy of my boss. He picks the destinations and I just enjoy the ride.”

“But vhere vould you go if you got to pick?” the albino pressed, leaning closer to Alfred as he spoke. His posture was inviting, tone and expression clearly stating that he found the American attractive and was looking to keep this conversation going.

A week ago, Alfred would have considered this an effort-free meal. Now, though, he ignored the signs and turned his gaze upward as he considered the question. Where would he want to go? He’d never had to choose before since Feliks always knew exactly what he wanted and where he wanted to be and when he wanted to be there. The nymph was a notorious travel bug and Alfred and Toris always went along with his plans without complaint. It wasn’t as if the trips he planned ever went awry. Feliks was too good at getting what he wanted for that.

“You know, I don’t actually know.” He chuckled, a little embarrassed to admit that. “I guess I don’t care where I’m going as long as I don’t have to go by myself. It’s the company I care about more than the destination.”

That was truer than it would have been a week ago, too. Alfred had no problem with travelling on his own. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself and had travelled too much get himself lost or in trouble. But when he thought about this trip to London, how neutral he’d been towards the whole idea, and then considered how he’d met Arthur, well…had he known the Brit was waiting for him, he would have boarded the plane a great deal more enthusiastically than he had. And this faculty party thing on Thursday? It sounded painfully boring, but he was going to get to spend time with Arthur so he was looking forward to it almost impatiently.

“Good looks _und_ a heart of gold, huh? You’re a catch, Alfred.”

The compliment put a grin on the blond’s face and he chuckled, looking at Gilbert out of the corner of his eye as he took another drink of his whiskey. “I hope so, or I’m in a load of trouble.”

“Vhat makes you say zhat?” Gilbert asked with polite curiosity, and Alfred turned his glass on the bar top, watching the way the light reflected in the colored liquid.

“Cause I met a guy the other night and I’m doing my best to make him fall for me but I’m not sure it’s working.” Normally, he wouldn’t tell a stranger like this albino that sort of information, but Gilbert was being mildly flirtatious so Alfred figured mentioning that he was interested in someone would discourage that. He wasn’t hungry and he had no intentions of hooking up with anyone but the Brit who had so effortlessly captured his affections.

“Ah, I see. Vell, Alfred, I’m sure he’s falling just as hard as you seem to be.” There was almost a teasing edge on the words but Alfred was encouraged nonetheless. He certainly hoped Arthur was falling for him, even if it wouldn’t be good for either of them in the long run. But sitting there talking to Gilbert, it was easy to forget that things were so much more complicated than Arthur would ever know. For tonight, he was going to pretend to be human again and not worry about what his mythical world would bring tomorrow.

“Thanks.” Another drink had him feeling light-hearted and happy. He was on vacation, for fuck’s sake. It was about time he finally relaxed.


	11. Chapter 11

It was raining. Pouring, actually, and Arthur was starting to wonder if his umbrella was going to survive the rest of the walk to his apartment. Puddles splashed under his shoes as he walked, getting the hems of his trousers wet as well as his socks—he couldn’t wait to get home and change into something dry and warm.

_Maybe I should’ve shared that cab with Gilbert._

The albino had offered, but he’d been acting rather smug and like he had a secret over the last two days and Arthur wasn’t overly inclined to give his coworker an opportunity to pester him about whatever it was. Gilbert was loud and cocky anyway but he’d been almost intolerable lately.

_Almost there._

Seeing his front door put a spring in the Brit’s step and his pace quickened. Thoughts of dinner, a hot bath and warm tea filled his mind; his apartment would be heaven after this chilly summer storm.

Lightning flashed just as he was unlocking the door and he’d barely gotten it shut behind himself when the thunder rumbled after it. With a sigh of relief, the blond closed his umbrella and leaned it against the wall to dry before he moved farther into the apartment, turning the lights on as he went. His coat was removed and hung up in the front closet and he left his shoes on a mat to dry as to not track water. But his wet socks made an unpleasant sound against the tiled floor so he slipped them off and tossed them towards the closet where his laundry bin was stored next to the clothes washer and dryer; he’d get to them on cleaning day.

The quiet warmth of his apartment was welcoming after the dismal weather outside and Arthur had already settled into his favorite armchair by the time he realized he hadn’t stopped to put on the tea.

_Bugger…_

Now would have been the perfect moment to have a lover who would be kind enough to make a pot of tea for him. Then he wouldn’t have to force himself to his feet and shuffle into the kitchen to do it himself. His chair really was too comfortable and he probably could have fallen asleep right at that moment if he’d wanted to. But wishing he had someone else around to make him tea got him thinking of Alfred and the American quickly took over his thoughts.

What would it be like to have the tall blond live with him? Arthur imagined sleeping in on their days off, lost somewhere under the covers as they cuddled and talked. Breakfast in bed would be a must, especially on holidays. And kisses. As many kisses as he could ever want from a very kissable American. They could take walks in the park, go out to eat now and then at that very same restaurant as their first date. And Alfred would be all his, no one else’s.

_If only he weren’t leaving at the end of summer._

Well, that put a damper on his spirits.

Sighing as the images faded from his mind, Arthur pushed himself out of his chair and wandered into the bedroom. Suddenly, he didn’t much feel like tea.

“Why did I have to meet a man who’s only here for a few months?” the green-eyed blond lamented, tossing himself down on his bed and staring at the ceiling. “It isn’t fair.”

Now he was starting to sound like a whiny teenager, but he couldn’t help it. He’d never met anyone like Alfred before and he wanted the bespectacled model around for long enough to properly get to know him. They’d met less than a week ago. Arthur had no idea what Alfred’s favorite color was, or his favorite food, what sort of movies he liked or what he planned to do when he finished modeling. Maybe he’d go into auto mechanics, since that’s what he’d studied at uni.

_I hardly know him at all._

It was an unpleasant thought, especially when he considered that he’d barely heard from the tall blond since their phone call on Sunday. Sure, he’d sent that photo and Alfred had texted him consistently for the evening, which had been pleasant enough. He’d gone to work Monday confident and happy with the way the past few days had gone. But it was Wednesday and he hadn’t spoken to Alfred at all on Monday. Yesterday he’d texted him only for the American to be busy. Today it was storming, his pant legs were wet and uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be alone for the rest of the night.

_Text him._

But what if he was busy again? The last thing Arthur wanted was to be a nuisance, but he wanted to talk to Alfred about the faculty party tomorrow and he couldn’t do that unless one of them made the effort to contact the other. He just didn’t want to be a nuisance if Alfred didn’t have time to talk.

_He won’t mind. He likes you. Maybe he’s waiting to see if you’ll call him first this time. You never know._

Hell. This was tearing him up a lot more than it should have been.

“That’s it. I’m texting him.”

Before he could second-guess himself, Arthur took his phone from his pocket and opened a new message, addressed it to the American and typed out a short message.

_< < Still busy? I don’t want to bother you but…_

But? But what? What was he even trying to say? Nothing, he was just typing out something nervous because he felt nervous and that wouldn’t help anything. His thumb hit the backspace key until all that remained were the first two words, and then he hit Send. There was no reason to make his text sound as insecure as he felt.

His nerves deflating now that he’d done the deed, Arthur left his phone on the bed and went to run a hot bath for himself. By the time he finished he’d be able to have dinner, then enjoy a cup of tea and a book or watch TV until bedtime. It would be a pleasant evening, and he might even enjoy listening to the rain for a bit.

Once the tub was full nearly to the brim was steaming water, he added in the proper amount of bubble solution and mixed it around with his hand, the other loosening his tie and undoing the buttons of his shirt one-by-one. Bubbles formed and floated on the top of the water, waiting for him to come play with them as he always did. His shirt and tie were both ready to be taken off by the time he was finished stirring up the water and Arthur abandoned the bathroom in favor of taking his clothes to the hamper. He picked up his still-damp socks on the way and stripped in front of the closet, putting his clothes directly into the hamper so that he wouldn’t have to worry about getting them later. It was his usual routine and he thought again what it would be like to have a lover living with him—what would they think of this habit? Once a day, he walked through the apartment without a stitch of clothing on his body and got straight into the bathtub. Would they find it odd or funny? Maybe a little sexy? They might want to join him.

_Alfred would._

Yes, he knew that. The American had openly admitted it on Sunday. What would he think if he knew that Arthur didn’t mind walking around naked for the sake of convenience? He didn’t even try to guess.

But the cold was already creeping into his bones from the air and the hard floor so he didn’t linger once he’d finished stripping, quickly made his way back to the bathroom and picked up his phone on the way. He’d left it on silent from work, so it wasn’t surprising that a text was waiting for him even though the device hadn’t gone off.

_> > Not even close. Sorry I couldn’t talk yesterday. How are you?_

So many possible responses went through his head.

_It’s fine, what were you up to?_

_Don’t worry about it. I’m fine, off work and tired._

_Cold from this storm but all right. You? ___

_I’m all right. Missed you, though._

Ah, he’d never admit to that, even though it was true. But which should he say?

_< < Cold and wet, unfortunately, but a bath will fix that. Yourself?_

As soon as the text finished sending he turned the phone to vibrate then set it down and carefully stepped into the tub, shivering as the heat of the water enveloped his skin. Heaven, that’s what this was, and as he slid down to sit with the water up to his neck, he felt every muscle in his body relax completely. Bliss. There was nothing like a hot bath to soothe the body, mind, and soul.

“Mm…” Head tilting back, the Englishman slid a little farther down until his chin broke the surface of the water. In the next moment he was fully submerged, holding his breath for a moment before rising again, both hands working to push his hair back out of his face. His face tingled with the lingering warmth and he almost didn’t notice when his phone buzzed, too busy enjoying the first moments of his bath. But he was too glad to be talking to Alfred to ignore it, so he picked up the phone once more.

_> > Enjoying the storm. Feliks and Toris hate it, but I kind of love lightning. And do you take baths all the time or do you just like talking to me during them?_

Alfred’s question put a little bit of a blush on the Brit’s cheeks and he actually took a moment to think about it before replying.

_< < Storms can be fascinating. As for the baths…I’d have to say it’s a combination._

The first thing to do would be to wash his hair. That was always first and Arthur wasted no time in lathering shampoo into the golden locks that were almost brown while wet. It was his favorite, scented like spice and mint, a combination that sounded odd but was really rather wonderful and helped to relax him even further. All of his bathing products were the same, as was his deodorant. Simply put, Arthur loved that smell and didn’t want to ruin it by adding something else.

Next came the bar of soap, which he rubbed over his skin and especially in those places that got particularly dirty or required extra care. Then he ducked under the water again, hands working through his hair to rinse out the majority of the shampoo; he’d get the rest of it when he was ready to get out and rinsed off. For now, he would relax and enjoy the water and the bubbles until his stomach decided it was time for dinner.

_> > I’ll take that as a compliment. So, what’d you wanna talk about?_

Even in his texts, Alfred’s American accent was clear.

_< < The faculty party tomorrow, if you’re still interested in going with me._

_> > Of course I am! No way would I miss out on a second date with you._

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the apparent enthusiasm and feel a little flattered. Alfred was looking forward to seeing him.

_< < I’m glad to hear it. The party’s semi-formal so nice slacks and a button down would be best, and a tie if you’d like. Do you still want to pick me up?_

_> > Yep. 7:30 on the dot._

_< < Perfect. There will be quite a few people attending, though I only know one or two well enough to call them friends. They’re looking forward to meeting you._

_> > So you’ve been talking about me._

Oops. He hadn’t really meant to tell him that, but it was too late to take it back. Besides, the American didn’t sound angry, he sounded amused, and Arthur wasn’t about to pass up a chance to flirt a little.

_< < Should I not? I thought you’d be flattered to have me brag about you._

_> > Oh, I am. Believe me. But I’m curious about what you said about me._

_< < Not much. I wanted you to be a surprise._

_> > That makes me sound like some sort of trophy date._

At this rate, he was going to enjoy texting Alfred a great deal more than he was enjoying his bath, and that was saying something.

_< < Maybe you are._

_> > Showing me off to make your coworkers jealous, huh?_

_< < No, but I certainly wouldn’t mind if that were a side effect._

_> > I’ll do my best then, Boss._

_< < Good boy_

He almost sent it but caught himself at the last moment, considered how that text sounded, then slowly deleted it. Calling Alfred “good boy” might be taking things a little too far and he didn’t want to be the one to mess up what they had going. It was too much fun to banter and flirt with the American.

_< < I’m sure you’ll be perfect._

_> > Aw, you’re making me blush. You know, I’m still waiting to read some of those poems of yours, and to see those tattoos._

Oh, bugger. He’d forgotten about that.

_< < I only have one tattoo._

Now, at least. He’d had several, but gotten them removed once he’d grown out of his punk phase and been looking to enter the world of business as a professional. No bank would hire someone with piercings and tattoos all over, like he’d been for those years. God, his brothers had hated it, but without real parents to tell him no, Arthur had done whatever he wanted to his body. Only a few traces of his rebellious youth lasted into his adult life.

_> > Ya gonna tell me what it is?_

_< < No. I’m not telling you where, either._

_> > Awww, you’re no fun, Artie. Can I guess?_

_< < If you want, but don’t expect me to tell you if you get it right._

_> > Jeez, someone’s cranky. All right…a dragon._

Close.

_< < Not quite._

_> > Snake?_

_< < Nope._

_> > Griffin._

<< Wrong again.

_> > Union Jack? At least tell me if it’s a symbol or an animal or whatever._

Well…he supposed he could take pity on the poor man. At least this once.

_< < It’s an animal._

_> > Cool. Tiger?_

_< < No, keep trying._

This was surprisingly fun, especially since Alfred probably wouldn’t guess the right creature because he didn’t know enough about British culture. Arthur’s tattoo was a customized version of a traditional design, one that he was too proud of to abandon for the sake of a job. Besides, it wasn’t where anyone would see it unless he wanted them to.

_> > A buck._

_< < A what?_

_> > You know, male deer? Antlers?_

_< < Oh, you mean a stag. No._

_> > Damn it. I’m out of ideas so let’s come back to that. What about your piercings?_

The change in subject made Arthur chuckle and he took a moment to shift around in the tub before replying. He really hadn’t expected to enjoy this so much.

_< < Honestly, Alfred, if I wouldn’t tell you about my tattoo, why would I tell you about my piercings?_

_> > Because I’m a poor American tourist trying to get to know the sexy British man who stole my heart?_

Really, now. That was a corny line even for Alfred. Amused, Arthur set his phone aside and began draining the tub. His stomach was starting to complain and that meant it was time to rinse, dry off and dress so he could have supper. It only took him a few minutes to rinse the shampoo and soap from his body, then he wrapped himself in a towel to ward off the cold and went into the bedroom in search of clothes. Drying off and dressing was another five minutes or so, and by then his stomach was outright growling at him.

Humming, the Brit retrieved his phone and contemplated how to respond as he wandered into the kitchen and set out preparing himself something to eat. There were frozen meals in the freezer, but he wasn’t particularly interested in any of those. The storm outside had put him in the mood for soup, so he settled on tomato soup with grilled cheese—the perfect combination. As the soup warmed on the stove and the griddle warmed up, he got out what he’d need for the sandwich then leaned against the counter to wait, phone in hand.

_< < I can’t believe you just said that._

_> > But it’s true._

_< < You’re not poor, I’m hardly qualified to be called “sexy” and you haven’t known me long enough for me to have stolen your heart._

_> > Oh come on, Artie. You have to know how attractive you are._

_< < No, actually, I don’t._

Bread with butter on one side was placed on the griddle then layered with cheese before another half buttered slice of bread was placed on top; he’d let it turn the perfect shade of golden brown before taking it off.

_> > Well you are. Sexy, I mean._

Did Alfred really mean that? Arthur wanted to believe him—he had no reason to think of the American as a liar—but he’d heard the opposite so many times that he almost had to laugh at the thought of anyone, especially someone like Alfred, considering him to be genuinely sexy. It just wasn’t a word that people used to describe him.

_< < I’m flattered that you think so._

It was the politest response he could think of that neither denied nor accepted the compliment. He couldn’t accept it if he didn’t believe it, but he didn’t want to deny it and sound like he didn’t care for Alfred’s opinion. The tall blond’s opinion meant a great deal to him and he was glad Alfred thought he was attractive. But sexy was a little much for him to accept so easily.

_> > You don’t believe me, but I mean it. I wasn’t kidding when I called you the handsomest man in all of London._

Great, now he was blushing. He was standing alone in his apartment watching his grilled cheese sandwich cook, and he was blushing. Brilliant.

_< < I really am flattered, it’s just going to take some getting used to, having someone think that._

_> > I’ll tell you every day if I have to, Artie._

Wait…did his heart just flutter? Was his pulse quickening?

_He means it. He really thinks I’m handsome and sexy._

Not for the first time, gratitude for this American who had so unexpectedly walked into his life overwhelmed him and Arthur felt tears beginning to form. It was just like in the tea shop when Alfred had promised that everyone who had ever called him “unpleasant things” was wrong. He wished the blond was there so he could thank him properly, or maybe just hug him—his throat was tightening so he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to get the words out. A text was just going to have to be good enough.

_< < You don’t have to, but it means a lot to me for you to say that._

_> > I’m glad._

Arthur couldn’t think of anything to say to that, at least not at the moment. He was barely managing to hold his emotions in check as it was and knew that if they continued on this topic then he would start crying and wouldn’t be able to stop for who knew how long. Besides, his sandwich was ready, as was his soup, and his stomach had been growling almost constantly since he’d gotten out of the bath. For now he would eat, and come up with something to say afterwards. The distraction would give him time to think, at any rate.

_What did I ever do to deserve for someone like Alfred to come into my life?_


	12. Chapter 12

_Holy shit. Deep breaths. Mmmm this is bad. I can’t. Jesus. Shit. Fuck._

Never before in his life had Alfred ever been this nervous. Not like this. He’d run into battle with a musket for shit’s sake and that had been nothing. After the first couple of times he’d barely broken a sweat. It was all sort of numbing after a while and hell, he was immortal. There wasn’t much in the world that frightened him anymore. But this…this had him ready to run for the hills.

Someone knocked on the bedroom door. “Alfred?” Feliks. “You, like, okay in there?”

“Fine.” Shit. He wasn’t fine. Not even close. His palms were sweating and his heart was gonna crack a rib and he was standing in front of the wardrobe in his underwear because he couldn’t figure out what to wear.

_Plan B._

“Hey, Feliks!” He knew the nymph would hear him. “Can I be your Ken Doll real quick?”

Almost instantly the door flew open and the green-eyed blond was at his side, smiling hugely. “Yes!” His enthusiasm made Alfred chuckle despite the taller male’s anxiety and he gestured at the wardrobe.

“Semi-formal dress code. A tie would be nice.”

Feliks nodded before advancing on the wardrobe, muttering under his breath as he rifled through its contents. “ _Koszula sukienka…czerwony? Nie…ah! Fioletowy!_ ” With a flourish, he pulled out a deep-necked sleeveless top, one that Alfred had worn for a photoshoot and hadn’t touched since.

“Why that?” the American asked as the garment was tossed at him and Feliks went back to searching through his belongings.

“Because you’re a model, Incubutt! More importantly, you’re _my_ model. Arthur’s totally going to show you off to his friends and they’ll ask you about your work. If you show up looking like every other boring human, it’ll make me look bad as a designer. You’re going to this party in style.”

_I’m going to kill him._

Tempting, tempting. But he’d asked the smaller blond to dress him so he couldn’t really complain now that Feliks was choosing an outfit. He didn’t have time to, anyway—it was already past seven.

“Just keep it…tame, all right?”

The look Feliks gave him after that comment would have cut a human in half, as if the nymph literally couldn’t believe Alfred was doubting his abilities to put together the perfect outfit for him to wear to this party.

“ _Pokażę Ci oswoić… głupi diabeł…_ ”

Alfred resisted the urge to smile and disguised his chuckle as a cough—if Feliks was annoyed enough to mutter at him in Polish then he was probably annoyed enough to abandon the American altogether. So he kept his mouth shut as a few more articles of clothing were added to his hands then allowed himself to be steered into the bathroom. Feliks turned the lights on and set about rummaging through the drawers.

“Dress.”

Without a word, Alfred did as he was told.

Somehow, Feliks had managed to pick an entire outfit of things Alfred had worn once for various shoots and then put in his closet to never touch again. As good as he looked in the nymph’s designs, there was no denying that it wasn’t actually his taste so even though he got to keep the things he modeled, he rarely wore them. Besides, he never would have managed to put together a decent outfit on his own—fashion wasn’t his forte by a long shot. It was just lucky for him that Feliks was used to dressing him, and as he stood before the mirror to examine the clothes he now wore, he couldn’t deny that it was a good look. Not one he’d have chosen himself, but good, and subtle.

“There.” Smug and satisfied, Feliks examined his work before attacking the taller blond’s hair with a comb and a small amount of gel, styling it back out of his face. “No one ever said no to second-date sex, right?”

Sex? With Arthur? The nymph was kidding…right? He had to be. After their discussion on Monday, Alfred had been avoiding any sort of inappropriate thoughts about the Englishman.

“Uh, I don’t think I need to worry about that, Fe,” he muttered, straightening his jacket as his nerves came crashing back down on him. “It’s a faculty party for a bank. There probably won’t even be alcohol.”

With a knowing look, Feliks led the way out of the bathroom. “You don’t need alcohol. Besides, the way he flirts with you makes it totally obvious that he wants you. A man doesn’t, like, text during a bath unless he wants the person he’s texting to picture him.”

The comment on his flirtations with Arthur and the Brit’s bathing habits made Alfred’s face turn red. “It’s just for fun! He doesn’t really—wait, how do _you_ know about the way he flirts?”

Feliks laughed as he turned, hands on his hips. “You really shouldn’t leave your phone lying around, Incubutt.”

_That’s it, I’m killing him. Toris will hate me but I can live with that. This little bastard isn’t waking up tomorrow._

“Oh, don’t look so pissed. Smile. You’re going on a date.”

“Which he’s about to be late for,” Toris interrupted from the doorway. “It’s almost 7:30, Al.”

Blue eyes went wide and the American dashed for the front door, grabbing his keys, phone and helmet on the way. “Shit!”

“Have fun!” Feliks called after him just before the door shut.

Heart pounding with adrenaline, Alfred sprinted all the way through the hotel—he took the stairs instead of the elevator because he could honestly run faster than that machine would be able to carry him—and down into the garage. His motorcycle was waiting for him in one of the smaller stalls set aside specifically for bikes and he practically jumped onto it, bringing it to life a second later and leaving the garage with a screech of the tires.

_Shit shit shit shit fuck me shit._

The last thing he wanted was to be late picking up Arthur.

X

Where was he? 

Checking his watch yet again, Arthur frowned to see that it was 7:32 and Alfred had yet to arrive. The American had promised to pick him up at 7:30 “on the dot.” He’d been right on time for their first date and he’d seemed to be looking forward to this one. What on earth could be delaying him?

_I hope nothing’s wrong…_

Anything could have happened. He’d be tearing around on that dreadful bike again and what if he got in an accident? What if he was in the hospital? Or if he’d gotten sick and couldn’t make it? But no, if he was ill he would have called Arthur to let him know. So either something was wrong or the tourist was simply running late. As much as he disliked when anyone was late, Arthur was hoping desperately that it was nothing more serious.

To his relief, less than another minute went by before he heard that same roar as he’d heard on Saturday, and then came Alfred and his motorcycle flying around that corner at a speed that was probably illegal and definitely dangerous. 

_The git’s going to get himself killed!_

But Alfred had no trouble at all with slowing and pulling up to the curb in time to stop in front of Arthur’s front step. His movements quick, he shut off the bike and stood as he removed his helmet, stepping up onto the sidewalk. There was an apologetic smile on his face and he pushed his hair back with one hand. Arthur couldn’t help but stare.

“Hey, Artie. Sorry I’m late.”

Late? Oh. Snapping out of it, Arthur returned the smile. “It’s all right. Less than three minutes, and we have plenty of time to make it to the party. What kept you?”

“I, uh, I let Feliks dress me up and it took him a bit. How do I look?” He did a slow turn, arms up so Arthur could clearly see his outfit. The Brit swallowed. Though he had yet to meet Feliks, he was starting to get an idea of what sort of man he was based on the clothes he’d put on Alfred. Dressed in slim-fitting black slacks, a dark purple shirt that showed off his collarbone and fitted black jacket with his hair combed back out of his eyes, Alfred looked like he belonged on the front of a magazine. Even the way his glasses had slid down his nose a little looked effortlessly perfect.

“Great.” Oh, god, he sounded like a lovestruck schoolboy. “I mean, you look, um, stylish.”

The American chuckled. “Not too American?”

Blushing at the reference to his early tactless mistake, Arthur shook his head. “Definitely not.”

“Good. You look nice, by the way,” Alfred complimented, smiling that movie-star smile and making the shorter blond shuffle his feet.

“Thank you.” As pleased as he was by his date’s approval, Arthur knew he didn’t look anywhere near as good as Alfred did. The American was clearly suited for his job as a model and while Arthur had dressed up a little for the occasion, he felt decidedly plain in his own slacks and waistcoat and simple button-down; even his bowtie felt silly compared to the other man’s attire.

A grin appeared on Alfred’s face and he stepped up to stand just in front of the shorter male, though Arthur was on the second-to-last step and so Alfred’s spot on the sidewalk put them at roughly the same height. “Do I get a hello kiss?” he asked quietly, innocent blue eyes peering over the tops of his glasses.

Arthur felt his heart rate take off and thought he might melt under that gaze. His throat too tight for him to speak, he simply nodded and loosely draped his arms around Alfred’s neck as the American leaned closer. Arms encircled his waist, pulling him forward just enough for his torso to press against the larger man’s, and he lowered his gaze shyly. Smiling, Alfred kissed the Englishman’s forehead then gently rubbed his cheek against Arthur’s temple to encourage him to look up. When Arthur complied, the blue-eyed blond took the opportunity to kiss his nose, tightening his arms just slightly around that slender waist. “Alfred…” “Hm?” His cheeks flushed and quickly growing darker, Arthur looked into blue eyes and took a calming breath before letting his own eyes fall closed as he leaned forward to press his lips to the American’s. Immediately, the taller man returned the gentle pressure and then Arthur’s mind began filling up with memories of their kiss in the tea shop, the way he’d needed to be as close as possible to this man and how they’d both been too shy to take it further even though they had both obviously wanted to. Thinking about it filled him with want and he realized that even as Alfred started to pull away, he wasn’t ready for the kiss to be over yet, so he let out a sound of protest and used his arms to bring the bespectacled man back to him. To his delight, Alfred didn’t protest, and another moment later Arthur summoned his courage; shyly, he parted his lips enough for his tongue to sneak out and taste the other man’s lips. “Artie.” Hearing his name being sighed like that sent tingles down the Brit’s spine and he couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. Now bold, his tongue roamed across perfectly soft lips until they opened to him, and then it was met by Alfred’s own tongue. The touch had him pressing even closer and he retreated into his own mouth, though he made sure to invite the taller man to join him. Without missing a beat, Alfred invaded the golden blond’s mouth and devoured the soft moan his action caused, explored the warm, wet space for a few moments before finding Arthur’s tongue and gently encouraging it to come to life once more.

As the kiss continued, Arthur could feel himself slipping, felt his self-control starting to give way under the other man’s talented mouth. Kissing Alfred was like being underwater—the world was muted and far away, as if they’d entered a universe all their own and the only thing that mattered was this man, the arms around his waist and the chest that was so warm he could feel it through Alfred’s clothes and his own. And the taste. This universe tasted of peppermint and chocolate as if the American had been eating sweets mere seconds ago. It was perfect and bloody hell he wanted more of it, didn’t ever want to leave this place away from the real world.

In the back of his mind, though, he knew he’d have to pull away eventually and did so after several long moments. He was breathing hard, his face flushed and eyes wide beneath furrowed eyebrows as he turned his face away.

“You okay?” There was concern in the American’s tone as he tried to get the smaller male to meet his gaze.

“Y-yes…fine…” Smiling weakly, Arthur shifted back to put distance between their bodies, though he didn’t pull out of Alfred’s embrace. “I just needed to catch my breath.”

Alfred gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah, me, too.”

He’d made Alfred short of breath? It didn’t seem possible and yet…yes, the taller blond’s breathing was uneven. Incredible.

Pleased, the Brit offered another smile and placed a chaste kiss on the American’s cheek. “We should get going.”

Though he still looked confused and a little worried, the blue-eyed blond didn’t argue. He released his hold on Arthur and stepped back, picking up his helmet. “All right.”

A moment later the helmet was secure around Arthur’s skull and both men were seated on the motorcycle, the smaller in back with his arms tight on the larger’s rib cage.

“Just tell me where to go!” Alfred called over the roar of the engine once he’d brought the bike to life, and Arthur nodded. Gently, the bike pulled away from the curb and into the street before gaining speed. This time was decidedly less frightening than the first, and Arthur thought he might actually get the hang of this. Maybe he’d even ask to drive a little. Maybe.

“Left!”

Alfred nodded and made the turn, taking it easy so neither of them would get too windblown or disheveled before they reached the party. A few more shouted instructions later they arrived at a small but rather extravagant hotel and parked. Once the engine was off, Alfred offered a hand to steady Arthur as the Brit dismounted the bike before standing himself. The helmet was hung on one of the handlebars and the keys were tucked safely into his pocket before he checked his appearance. Slacks free of creases, shirt and jacket straight, hair still neatly styled back—good.

Now with a charming smile in place, the American turned to face his date and bowed slightly. “Shall we?”

Beyond pleased by the display of manners, Arthur blushed and nodded then took the arm that Alfred offered as he straightened. Together, they moved onto the sidewalk and made their way towards the hotel’s front doors. Arthur barely managed to contain his excitement, forcing himself to look as calm as always as they passed through the doors and walked to the room reserved for the faculty party. Just wait until his coworkers got a look at his Plus One. He’d meant it when he said he wasn’t trying to make them jealous but that he wouldn’t necessarily mind if they were, and now he was certain he’d be the envy of more than one of the bank’s employees.

The moment they walked into the room, several pairs of eyes turned to look and the Brit noted gleefully that those who had noticed them looked stunned. He was tempted to pause, to stand there with Alfred and smile because he finally wasn’t the only miserable wretch who showed up without a date and he wanted his coworkers to know that he, Arthur Kirkland, was there with someone as devilishly handsome and charming as the tall blond beside him.

But that would be snobbish and borderline rude, so he merely took a moment to look around for anyone familiar before leading Alfred farther into the room. It was spacious, with several round tables set out with chairs for anyone who didn’t wish to stand, and buffet tables along one wall. There wouldn’t be a meal, of course, since most people ate earlier than this, but there would be snacks and drinks.

“Pretty fancy,” Alfred murmured so only the Brit at his side would hear him, and Arthur smiled.

“The bank always hosts its events at this hotel—we manage their accounts, so it’s sort of expected.” No one had called to talk to him yet, so the green-eyed blond set his attention on the buffet tables and began examining the options. “It’s a lovely spot.”

“I see.” Alfred let his gaze wander about the room and caught a few people looking at him only to quickly turn away when they saw that he’d noticed. It made him grin. “So, what happens at events like this one?”

“Once everyone’s arrived,” Arthur replied, leaning over the table to get a better look at a few of the snacks, “the bank’s manager will give a speech about how well we’ve been doing, the goals we’ve met, goals for the coming year, important events and whatnot. A bit dry, but pleasant enough. He’ll make a toast, and then we’re meant to spend the evening socializing to form tighter bonds within the company. Events like this are supposed to help us make friends among the branches so that we’ll be able to work together more efficiently. Personally, I find that most people use it as an opportunity to show off their dates and spend time with the few work friends they already have rather than make new ones.” Unable to find a snack that looked appealing, he moved on to investigate the beverages.

The American couldn’t help but grin and he snuck an admiring glance at the golden blond’s rear as Arthur continued to lean over the table. “So, who are you going to show me off to?”

Chuckling, Arthur selected a glass of pinkish-orange punch and straightened before answering. “Just a few people.”

“Well,” still grinning, Alfred slipped his arm behind the smaller blond and settled his hand on Arthur’s waist so he could pull him a bit closer, “I’ll try not to embarrass you.”

Smiling as he sipped his punch, Arthur leaned against the American just slightly. “That’s the spirit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS:  
> Koszula sukienka…czerwony? Nie…ah! Fioletowy!  
>  Polish: Dress shirt…red? No…ah! Violet!  
> Pokażę Ci oswoić… głupi diabeł…  
>  Polish: I’ll show you tame…stupid devil/demon…


	13. Chapter 13

Everything was going smoothly. As nervous as he’d been and admittedly still was, Alfred thought he was doing pretty well at this whole date thing. So far, he’d met quite a few of Arthur’s coworkers. They seemed nice enough, were polite and friendly though the conversation was a little stale.

Like Arthur had described, there had been a speech about the bank—which he understood very little of, though he made sure to look like he was paying close attention—and now the party had moved into the socializing stage. Arthur had positioned them near a wall close to the snack tables, somewhere they’d be sure to be spotted by any late arrivals who wanted to talk to him. To Alfred’s amusement, the Brit was showing him off with no little amount of pride.

_You don’t even mind, do you._

Not at all. He liked the way Arthur glanced at him every few moments, and he’d barely taken his hands off the smaller male throughout the evening. A touch on his arm, hand on his lower back or hip, they were in almost constant contact. It wasn’t necessary, Al knew, but he didn’t know what else to do with his hands, and the way Arthur leaned closer to him at every touch made it clear the green-eyed blond didn’t mind.

Smiling as the latest couple walked away to socialize elsewhere, the American tilted his head down so he could whisper in Arthur’s ear. “Getting the reactions you wanted?”

Arthur’s cheeks turned a pleased shade of light red and he grinned. “Yes. I’ll be the talk of the bank thanks to you.” As a reward, he placed a kiss on the taller male’s cheek; Alfred chuckled.

“You missed,” he teased, blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses, and Arthur rolled his eyes before turning to fully face his date.

“Incorrigible lad, aren’t you.” His tone was playful as his hands slid up onto the bespectacled man’s shoulders, one eyebrow a little higher than the other.

The taller of the two took a moment to pretend to think about that comment, then smirked and rested his forehead against Arthur’s. “Naw, ya jes’ got ter find tha righ’…motivation.” He watched as the green in those eyes darkened and a red tinge colored the Briton’s ears, could feel Arthur’s body beginning to heat even through his clothes. It was perfect how his use of a Southern accent so easily affected this usually calm man, and while it wasn’t fair to do so in this particular situation, he hadn’t been able to help it. Not when he got to see the golden blond get all flustered like this.

“Git,” Arthur growled, clearly unhappy about being teased, but Alfred just chuckled and kissed the Englishman’s nose.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it.” It was clear in Arthur’s expression that he didn’t believe the American, but Alfred wasn’t worried about that. The way they were standing was too intimate for him to feel nervous, arms around each other and the rest of the world somewhere far away. All he cared about right now was the man right in front of him.

_Kiss him._

No, now wasn’t the time. There were people all around them and it would probably embarrass Arthur, upset him even more than it did when they were in that little tea shop. Damn, though, he wanted to. He was already holding the smaller blond’s waist, and their faces were so close together. It would have been easy, the difference of only a few inches.

“Arzhur!”

Startled by the loud voice, both blonds blinked and stepped back from each other, though Alfred kept his hand on Arthur’s lower back as they turned to face the speaker. Alfred’s mind went blank and he stared, not quite sure he was seeing right. There was no way.

“Hello, Gilbert,” Arthur greeted the albino, smiling to see his coworker. There was a bored-looking brunet with him, though Gilbert looked more than happy as he strode closer to the pair.

Apprehensive and now a little suspicious, Alfred raised one eyebrow and forced a friendly grin. “Hey.”

“ _Hallo,_ Alfred. How ya been?”

“Oh, I’m all right.” He grinned now, unable to sense any sort of ulterior motive in Gilbert, and put his arm more firmly around his green-eyed date’s waist.

Confusion radiated off Arthur. The Brit was looking back and forth between Alfred and Gilbert, clearly baffled by their casual exchange and how they obviously knew each other. “Gilbert? Ah…this is my date, Alfred, but I seem to be missing something here.” His tone was slightly accusatory as he met the taller male’s red-eyed gaze.

Without missing a beat, Gilbert laughed and slung his arm around his brunet date’s shoulders. “I met your lover here in zhe pub zhe other night.” Alfred and Arthur both looked properly embarrassed by the term “lover.” “Didn’t tell him who I am, zhough.” He glanced at Alfred. “ _Entschuldigt._ ” His attention went back to Arthur. “Not fair, but effective.”

First disbelief then an exasperated annoyance appeared on Arthur’s face. “You couldn’t wait even three days, Gilbert?”

The albino shrugged. “I vas curious. Zhis is Roderich, by zhe vay.” Grin softening into a smile, Gilbert looked at the brunet by his side and kissed the slimmer man’s cheek, earning a blush and a half-hearted scowl. “ _Mein herz._ ” Roderich’s blush deepened and he muttered under his breath; Gilbert laughed again before he returned his attention to the blonds. “So, Alfred, are you charming zhe pants off everyvone here?”

He had to chuckle at the albino’s phrasing and almost admitted that the only person whose pants he was interesting in charming off were Arthur’s. Of course, Gilbert probably knew that, but saying it would get Alfred in trouble so he decided to save it for a later date. If the red-eyed man was willing to go to a pub on the off chance that he might run into someone his coworker had just so happened to meet, then there was a good chance they would be spending time together again.

“No, unfortunately. That would probably get Arthur in trouble, and he did warn me to keep it at a…how’d you phrase it, Artie?” he asked, tone innocent as the green-eyed blond became the focus of three sets of eyes. The attention made Arthur want to squirm inside his clothes and he was one word away from smacking Al’s arm. It was just like the git to bring this up again, and in front of one of Arthur’s coworkers, someone he’d met before, no less, because of Arthur not being able to keep his mouth shut. Typical.

“Bloody,” he muttered under his breath, looking away for a moment before his smile reappeared, though it was strained now. “I was a little worried his American customs would make him a poor choice to bring as my Plus One.”

It was quiet for a moment, then Gilbert laughed, so loud that a few of the other guests turned to look only to roll their eyes and look away again. “Zhat’s racist, Arzhur,” he scolded, red eyes bright with amusement.

“Oh, it is not!”

“ _Ja,_ it is. Alfred, how do you put up vizh him?”

Alfred chuckled, no longer nervous at all about this faculty party. The fact that Arthur had bragged about him, but not enough to satisfy anyone’s curiosity, and to the point that Gilbert had actively sought him out, was borderline hilarious. Little wonder the albino had kept talking to him even after Alfred made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t interested in hooking up or a date or the like. And to see that he had a boyfriend—Roderich—wasn’t at all surprising. The man was amiable, to say the least. Al had the feeling he was the only person who’d ever made the prim-and-proper-looking brunet actually relax for once.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, looking at Arthur out of the corner of his eye as he grinned just slightly. The golden blond was staring at him, a look that clearly said he’d better come up with the right answer for Gilbert, or he was going to be in loads of trouble.

_He’s making this too easy for me._

“Oh, you know. He’s cute.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure that’s the only reason you tolerate my presence.”

“Well, that and your sexy accent.”

“Alfred!”

“What?”

They stared at each other, not noticing the deeply amused grin on Gilbert’s face. Arthur was blushing, scowling at the American beside him because he felt Alfred’s response was inappropriate.

“You promised to behave yourself,” he muttered, low enough that the other two males wouldn’t quite catch it.

“Did I?” the taller blond teased, one eyebrow quirking up.

“Yes.”

“Hm. Well then, I guess you haven’t found the right motivation.”

_Cheeky blighter._

He was doing it on purpose, he had to be. Just to embarrass Arthur as much as possible. Arse. But two could play at this game, and Arthur knew Gilbert much better than Alfred did despite the fact that they’d met without him knowing. Slowly, a grin took over his features, his eyelids lowering so that only a sliver of green showed through.

“Oh, I think I’ve found the _right_ motivation,” he purred, and was inwardly gleeful to see surprise on Alfred’s face quickly followed by a blush, “I just haven’t decided if you deserve it or not.”

It was easy to see the wheels turning in Alfred’s head as the bespectacled blond tried to come up with a response to Arthur’s taunt. “What do I get if I behave myself?”

Arthur chuckled and patted the taller man’s cheek in a deliberately patronizing fashion. “Well, I wouldn’t want to give away the surprise, would I? Gilbert,” he turned to face the albino, ignoring the sly grin he was being given, “what do you say we head out for a few after this?”

Grinning, the white-haired male gave a sharp nod. “I say hell _ja._ ”

“Gilbert,” Roderich whined, speaking up for the first time, “I don’t vant to go to zhe bar.” He gave the taller male a beseeching look, and it was obvious to Alfred and Arthur that the albino started to crumble almost immediately under that brown-eyed gaze.

“We’d be delighted to have you along, Roderich,” Alfred interrupted before Gilbert could collapse completely. The brunet looked at him, clearly surprised he’d been addressed. “A man of such fine taste as yourself would be sorely missed.”

Brown eyes blinked; Roderich blushed. “V-vell I…I don’t know…”

“Please.” With the sincerest look he could imagine, the blue-eyed American took one of Roderich’s hands and held it in both of his own. “It won’t be the same without you.”

The other three were silent as Roderich stuttered and sputtered in the attempt to formulate a decent response. Gilbert looked particularly impressed that someone had managed to flatter his boyfriend so quickly, especially during their first encounter. Arthur was amused and little else since he wasn’t at all surprised that Alfred’s charms were so effective against the brunet.

Alfred, meanwhile, kept that same almost-pleading expression in place and didn’t let go of Roderich’s hand, stared directly into the polished man’s eyes. As long as he maintained that contact, he could feed just the tiniest bit of heat into Roderich’s body, enough to make him feel warm and flustered even if he normally wouldn’t have been, enough to make him relaxed and easily excited, to make him want to go out for a drink with his lover and friends. Of course, his compliments alone may well have done the trick of convincing Roderich to join them, but why leave it to chance? Arthur wanted to go out for a drink and Alfred wasn’t going to let anything stop that from happening, not when the Brit had given him that sultry look. The bar seemed like a very good idea.

“I…vell, I suppose it von’t hurt anyzhing,” Roderich eventually conceded, gaze lowering as he flashed an embarrassed glance at Gilbert.

“ _Das ist der Geist,_ Roddy,” he murmured, squeezing his arm around the brunet’s shoulders encouragingly.

“It’s settled, then.” Arthur only barely managed to conceal how smug he felt at the moment. “We’ll go to the Green Dragon after the party.”

“Green Dragon?” Alfred repeated, the name catching his attention—he was sure he’d heard it somewhere before, though he wasn’t quite sure where or in what context.

“Yes, and yes, it’s named after the Green Dragon in _The Lord of the Rings,_ ” the Brit confirmed, grinning slightly as recognition brightened Alfred’s eyes.

“Cool!”

His excitement earned a chuckle from Arthur and Gilbert; Roderich was still too embarrassed about having been complimented to offer much of a reaction.

“Hey, vhy don’t ve just go now?” Gilbert suggested, red eyes glancing towards the clock on the wall. “Zhe party’s just going to be boring small talk now. Zhere’s no point in staying.”

“I’m up for that,” Alfred responded, his usual movie star grin appearing as he looked down at Arthur. “Artie?”

Ignoring the snigger that was Gilbert’s reaction to the nickname, Arthur smiled and nodded. “All right. We’ll meet the two of you there, then.”

“Don’t get distracted,” the albino teased before he led Roderich away, the two making a round of farewells.

“Come on,” Al whispered, slipping his hand over Arthur’s and leading the smaller male towards the door.

“I should say goodbye—”

“To who? You didn’t seem like you enjoyed talking to any of them the first time. Why would you want to talk to them again?”

Arthur stared for a moment before he sighed—it was almost annoying how easily Alfred could read him. “Fine.”

The American grinned and sped up slightly, leading the golden blond out of the hotel and down the sidewalk to where they’d left the bike. “Helmet.” He held it out to Arthur and he took it, though he held it to his chest rather than putting it on.

“Oi.”

“Hm?” Alfred was distracted by the task of finding his key. He knew he’d put it in one of these pockets—

“Alfred.” The Englishman’s tone was sharper this time, catching Alfred’s attention.

“What?” Shit, Arthur looked upset. What did he do? He must have said something or done something—was it wrong of him to not want to say goodbye to the people he was probably never going to see again? He hadn’t thought so…and Arthur hadn’t argued…but maybe he should have realized…?

“That wasn’t very nice, you know.”

_Shit._

“Uh…what wasn’t?”

Arthur stepped forward, putting himself right on the edge of the sidewalk, his toes sticking out over the drop of the curb. He twitched a finger, gesturing for Alfred to come closer, which the American did without hesitation so that he wouldn’t upset the Brit any further. Slowly, Arthur slid his arms around the bespectacled male’s neck, the helmet dangling from one hand.

“Teasing me with that bloody accent, you attractive git.”

Oh. _Oh._

Relieved, Alfred chuckled and set his hands on the Briton’s waist. “Sorry about that. You’re reaction’s just so cute—I really couldn’t resist.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing one of us is capable of controlling himself,” Arthur replied, meaning the fact that he hadn’t pulled Alfred into a kiss like he’d wanted to do, and that he’d kept his flirtations to a minimum for the duration of the party.

“Well, that depends who you ask,” the taller pointed out, his voice lowering in a manner that was almost seductive. Arthur didn’t respond right away, too distracted by those blue eyes that almost seemed to be glowing, how perfect Alfred’s teeth were, the way his glasses slid down his nose just a little.

“Yeah,” he breathed, blinking slowly, mouth open just a little.

“Artie.”

“Yes?”

“I might kiss you.”

A shiver of anticipation ran through his body and Arthur tightened his arms around the American’s neck. “Please do.”

The beginnings of a grin twitched up the corners of Alfred’s mouth and he circled Arthur’s waist with his arms, bringing the smaller male forward enough that their chests were pressed together. “I really do think your accent is sexy,” he whispered before tilting his head and moving just enough that his lips pressed to Arthur’s. Immediately, green eyes fell closed and fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing him closer as the Brit’s mouth opened just enough that their breaths mingled.

“Arthur,” the name left him on a sigh just as Alfred let his eyes close as well, and he accepted the smaller male’s invitation without hesitance. That already-familiar taste greeted him, along with a playful flick of the Brit’s tongue that made him grin even as the kiss continued.

The sound of a loud wolf whistle startled the two blonds enough that they drew apart, Arthur instantly blushing even as he looked around for the source of the sound. To his dismay, Gilbert and Roderich were just down the sidewalk, the brunet sliding into their car as the albino held his door open for him.

“You two sure you vant to go to zhe Dragon?” Gilbert called, smirking. “Or vould you razher just go to Arzhur’s apartment?”

Embarrassed on Arthur’s behalf, Alfred laughed nervously. “And miss out on an evening of drinking with you? The apartment can wait!”

“Alfred!” Arthur hissed, jabbing his elbow into the American’s ribs. It wasn’t a hard enough blow to hurt, but it got across that he didn’t approve of the bespectacled man’s response.

“I was kidding, Artie,” Alfred assured him as Gilbert got into his car and started its engine. “Come on, you know I don’t expect to go to your apartment.”

“But Gilbert doesn’t know that,” the Brit pointed out, and Alfred smiled gently before taking the green-eyed blond’s face in his hands and kissing him softly.

“Who cares what Gilbert thinks? He can believe whatever he wants—don’t let him get to you. I know you’ll invite me over when you’re ready, and I won’t pressure you into doing it too soon. Okay?”

His heart had been beating fast after their initial kiss, fluttered at that small one, and now was on the verge of melting. Really, could this blue-eyed man get any more perfect?

“Okay,” Arthur agreed quietly, a nervous smile appearing on his face.

“Good.” Alfred kissed his nose then grinned. “All right, put that helmet on. We don’t want to keep Gilbert and Roderich waiting.”

“Right, right.” Still flustered, Arthur donned the helmet then climbed onto the motorcycle, settling in his usual spot behind Alfred, arms around the larger male’s ribcage. Heat radiated off the American, making him snuggle just a bit closer.

“Just tell me where to go.” The engine roared to life and within moments they were off down the street, following the direction Gilbert’s car had gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS:  
> Das ist der Geist.  
>  German: That’s the spirit.


	14. Chapter 14

The Green Dragon was better than Alfred had been expecting. It was nothing like the pub he’d met Artie in—that one had been small and dim but modern, with cushioned booths in the corners and tables and a few screens hung from the ceiling to show sports games and other shows. This pub was nothing like that one. It was low-ceilinged, but not enough that he had to stoop, with wooden beams and off-white plaster. The doors were perfect circles and the tables and chairs all looked as if they’d been made out of wood by hand. Its walls were decorated with paintings that looked like they were done directly out of the _Rings_ movies, including portraits of some of the characters. Even the bar itself was designed to look like the drinks came out of big wooden barrels instead of modern plumbing.

It was just what he’d always imagined the Green Dragon looked like.

“This is amazing,” he commented, not for the first time, as he looked around the pub. They were sitting at a table in a corner where it was quieter, as this was apparently a favorite spot for tourists. Alfred wasn’t embarrassed to admit that he would definitely have come here if he’d known about it, as a tourist, but he was still glad he was there on a double date instead of just sight-seeing.

“They did a nice job,” Arthur agreed, amused. “I just wish it was a quieter place to get a drink.”

“You just don’t like anyzhing popular, do you, Arzhur,” Gilbert teased, making Arthur roll his eyes.

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a quiet place to drink. Besides, my usual place is conveniently close to home.”

“ _Ja,_ so you can valk back vhenever you get vasted.”

“What?” Alfred looked at the blond beside him, curious. “I didn’t realize it was so close.” _And I didn’t realize you would ever drink enough to get wasted._ Even though he didn’t say that part, it was obvious in his expression and posture that he was thinking it, and Arthur shifted nervously in his chair.

“Well, it’s not…it’s walking distance, but…”

“It’s valking distance,” Gilbert confirmed, his gaze locked on Alfred, “and _ja,_ your gentlemanly date is vone of zhe heaviest drinkers I’ve ever met. He can almost out-drink me.”

“ _Und_ zhat’s saying somezhing,” Roderich added with a raised eyebrow. He seemed slightly disapproving, but Gilbert merely laughed and kissed the brunet’s cheek.

“Roddy doesn’t like how much I drink sometimes, but I alvays manage to…mm…cheer him up.”

If the man had been embarrassed before it was nothing to what he was now, blushing and mumbling and hiding behind the large mug of beer he’d ordered. It matched what the other three had ordered, all in large, old-fashioned mugs just like in the movies. Alfred wanted to ask if he could buy one to take home as a souvenir.

“I’m sure you do.” Arthur wasn’t amused. “But don’t go putting ideas in Alfred’s head—I’m not nearly as big of a drinker as you’re letting on.”

“You are too, Kirkland. Even Ludvig zhinks you drink a lot.”

“Ludvig?” Alfred repeated, the accent strange to his tongue.

“Ludwig is Gilbert’s younger brother,” Arthur explained between drinks. “He works in Germany.”

“Oh. Is he…” Shit, how did he ask without being rude?

A knowing look came into Gilbert’s eyes as Alfred hesitated. “ _Nein,_ he isn’t albino. Blond and blue-eyed.”

Unable to think of anything to say to that because he didn’t want to sound like some insensitive asshole, Alfred just nodded and took a long drink of his beer.

_Okay, now what? We’re in a bar with Arthur, and Gilbert and his boyfriend Roderich. This bar is super cool and nerdy but let’s not freak out about that and give away how much we know about_ The Lord of the Rings. _We can impress Arthur with that in a more private setting._

Arthur might get drunk. Arthur was a heavy drinker. Good god he’d never imagined that before. His Arthur, prim and proper and well-mannered and so easily flustered was also a man who got wasted? It seemed so out of place and yet he wanted to hear that accent slurred with drunkenness, and to see what sort of drunk the Brit was. Funny? Flirty? Angry? Hopefully not angry, but Arthur wasn’t an angry person so he probably wasn’t an angry drunk. Besides, Gilbert would have said so if he was.

_I bet he’s flirty._

A glance revealed that Arthur was watching him out of the corner of his eye, the slit of green glinting a little in the pub’s low lighting. Damn, he wasn’t even doing anything and he was sexy as hell.

_Definitely flirty._

Okay, yeah, he wanted to see this. Drunk Arthur was something he _needed_ to see, if only because it would be entertaining. Not because he thought he’d be able to sleep with him that way. Drunk sex was messy and sort of…gross, if he was completely honest. A person’s pleasure and energy was always tainted by what they ate and drank and he didn’t like the way alcohol affected that, but when he was hungry enough it didn’t matter. Besides he’d fed from Feliks just that morning so that he would be completely in control of himself tonight. If anything happened with Arthur, it would be because he wanted to, not because he was hungry, and it would be because Arthur wanted to, not because he was drunk.

_You’re making this really hard for yourself, you know._

Yes, but so what?

“Artie,” Alfred kept his voice low to match the atmosphere in the room, “you know you can drink as much as you want, since I’m driving.”

“Yes,” the shorter blond responded slowly, “but I don’t want…it wouldn’t be right…”

“Drink as much as you want.”

“Come on, Arzhur,” Gilbert chided, grinning cockily as he lifted his mug and drank at least half of the beer it held. “Don’t pass up zhe chance of a hot DD.” The last bit made Alfred chuckle, and even Arthur had to crack a smile. Minutes passed as he thought about it and eventually nodded.

“If you’re sure, then all right.”

Alfred grinned. “I’m sure. Next round’s on me.” And before anyone could argue, he got up and headed towards the bar for another order of beers.

“He’s a catch, Arzhur,” Gilbert whispered once the American was out of earshot. “Don’t lose him.”

Arthur merely scowled at the other man and finished off his beer in a couple of swallows. “I blame you for whatever happens after this.”

“You’re velcome.”

X

Holy shit.

Gilbert hadn’t been exaggerating, and Alfred could hardly believe what he was seeing. The two coworkers had gotten into a drinking game reminiscent of Gimli and Legolas, and both seemed to be playing the part of the dwarf.

“Let’s take a bazh vhen ve get home, Roddy,” Gilbert crooned, drunk and grinning in a way that was openly suggestive about what he intended to do when they got home. The brunet was flustered and helpless against him, hiding in his own mug as the taller male wrapped his arms around his waist and nuzzled into his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that made Alfred avert his gaze out of sheer decency.

Meanwhile, Arthur was slurring his words as he talked mostly to himself. His eyes were unfocused as he continued to drink, blurred by alcohol but still determined.

“Don’ tell me I can’t drink,” he muttered, using his mug to gesture at Gilbert. “I drink jus’ fine.”

“I didn’t say ya couldn’t!” Gilbert tore his attention away from Roderich’s neck long enough to protest the accusation. “I said ya could!”

Arthur grinned. “’n I can.” Satisfied at having won the argument, he turned to Alfred. “Hey.”

This was going to be fun.

Leaning one arm on the table, Alfred grinned and lifted an eyebrow. “Hi.”

“Havin’ fun?”

“Yeah. You’re really funny.”

A frown flashed across Arthur’s face. “I am not here for your amusement!” he all but shouted, indignant.

“Hey, hey,” Alfred soothed, touching the Brit’s hand and pressing a bit of warmth into him. “I know. It’s okay.”

But Arthur’s focus had shifted.

“How’re you doing that?” he asked suddenly, gaze locked on their hands.

“What?”

“You’re heating me.”

A small wave of shock left Alfred speechless. Heating him? What? No way could Arthur feel that…it wasn’t arousal, just comforting warmth. He shouldn’t have been able to tell where that warmth was coming from.

_Who the fuck are you?_

“I just want you to be happy, Artie,” he tried to placate him. “Does the warm feel good?”

Arthur nodded slowly, looking between Alfred’s face and their hands. “Feels nice…”

“Good.” Al smiled and kissed the smaller male’s forehead. The gesture made Arthur let out an uncharacteristic giggle, and he smiled crookedly.

Okay, he admitted it. Arthur was an adorable drunk. A little flirty, maybe temperamental, not at all annoying. Just adorable, and that smile promised that Al just had to play his cards right in order to get whatever he wanted.

_He can feel me passing warmth to him._

Intriguing, yes, especially in combination with everything else Arthur had done since they met. It made him wonder if this human was hiding any other surprises, things he could do that other humans couldn’t.

_Now isn’t the time to find out._

Right, right. Not now, not tonight. Tonight he just wanted to keep his drunken date out of trouble.

“Excuse me, Alfred,” Roderich interrupted quietly, gaining the attention of both blonds, “I zhink it’s time I took Gilbert home.” Said albino was busy trying to pull Roderich into his lap, though his uncoordinated attempts were easily put off by the brunet, and Gilbert was starting to pout because he wasn’t getting what he wanted. The amount of alcohol he’d consumed seemed to be getting to him more than before, as he was mumbling in German, his tone varying from seductive to pleading without his notice.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I think it’s bed time for Artie, too.”

“Hey!”

Ignoring Arthur’s protest, Roderich stood and managed to get Gilbert on his feet by pulling the taller male’s arm around his shoulders. Gilbert leaned heavily on him, nuzzling his temple and whispering in his ear—the way Roderich blushed made Alfred glad that he couldn’t hear what was said.

“Zhank you for inviting us,” the brunet was polite as he took Gilbert’s wallet and paid for their drinks; Gilbert barely noticed.

“No problem. Good luck with him, we’ll see you around.”

“ _Gute nacht._ ”

He watched the two make their unsteady way out of the pub and vanish into the night, chuckling at the way Gilbert kept trying to grope the shorter man’s ass only to have his hand swatted away every time.

_Have fun, Roderich._

Once the door closed behind them, Alfred turned his full attention to Arthur. “How ya holdin’ up?”

Arthur grinned. “Fine.”

“Good. Ready to head home?”

An unsteady nod.

“All right, let’s go.” He stood, then helped Arthur disentangle himself from the table and bench. While the Brit attempted to straighten out his clothes, Al fished out his wallet and dropped a few notes on the table.

“Come on, Artie,” he urged quietly, linking arms with the green-eyed blond and guiding him outside.

“So clear out here.”

“Yeah. It’s a nice night.”

It really was. The clouds were gone, letting the stars and moon shine down on the streets. Traffic nearby was muffled, mere background noise. Peaceful and quiet, that’s what it was.

“Your bike.” Arthur had wandered over to the motorcycle and picked up the helmet.

“Yeah, I’m gonna drive you home. You need to get to bed.”

“Naw.” He rolled the helmet between his hands, studying the way the streetlamps reflected off it. “I’m fine.”

_Uh-huh, sure._

“Well, let’s just go for a ride, then. Sound fun?”

A smile appeared on Arthur’s face and he nodded; Alfred stopped him before he could cram the helmet on his head and maybe hurt himself, helped him get it on properly then straddled the bike. 

“Come on, and don’t forget to hold on tight. I don’t want you falling off.”

Arthur rolled his eyes dramatically and huffed out a sigh. Really, he wasn’t a child and he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. But the sidewalk looked a little bit higher than normal so he did as he was told, pressing close to the larger male and nuzzling his helmeted head into the space between Al’s shoulder blades. He smelled nice, like always, but he was wearing a different cologne, something cool and enticing. Ooh, his hair looked extra soft under the streetlamps. Running his fingers through it would be fun. But no, that would be weird, right? Since they weren’t _dating_. But it looked so soft…

“Ready?”

Maybe just a little touch, just to see. But there was his neck peeking out from under the hair and it was so perfect, such an even tan and he smelled so good and he was so handsome, so kissable and Arthur wanted to kiss every bit of him and keep him forever, never let him leave, let this summer go on for eternity.

“Arthur, are you ready?”

“What?” Alfred was talking?

“I asked if you’re ready.”

“Oh. Yes. Go.” He hadn’t realized Alfred was talking and that was such a terrible thing. He should have paid attention. It was rude to ignore people and being rude was bad. Arthur didn’t like when people were rude and he felt awful for ignoring Alfred, but those thoughts were wiped from his mind when the motorcycle roared to life and the vibrations hit him.

Oooh, that was…ah…nice…

A strange smile lifted the corners of his mouth and Arthur shifted forward to get rid of what little space there’d been between his body and Alfred’s. He was practically purring, tightened his arms around the American’s ribcage and rocked his hips ever so slightly to try to increase that wonderful vibrating.

“Uh…A-Artie? What’re you doing?” The nervous tone Al used did nothing to put the older male off, just made him giggle again.

“Your bike feels good.”

“…right.”

He could feel how tense Alfred was, knew it was because of him but couldn’t bring himself to mind. He was enjoying this too much, and if Al was tense then he was probably nervous, and what a funny thing that Alfred was the nervous one when all this time Arthur was having such a hard time controlling himself.

“Hey, wanna come inside?” he asked quietly, resting his chin on Al’s shoulder so his mouth was just next to the ash blond’s ear as they slowly drove down the street.

“What?”

“At my ‘partment. Come inside.” _Let me kiss you._

“We’ll see.”

That was practically a no and Arthur pouted before he could stop himself, though he settled after a moment and snuggled into Alfred’s back. He forgot about everything but the American’s smell and his warmth and that lovely vibrating in his hips.

All too soon, they slowed and stopped, and then the vibrating went away. But he still had Alfred in his arms, and that was good enough for him, so Arthur smiled and let out a happy little hum as he wiggled slightly to get more comfortable.

“Artie, let go so we can go inside. You want to go inside, right? You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

Bed? Alfred? Yes!

Excitement taking over, Arthur released his grip on the larger male and hopped off the bike, barely taking the time to yank the helmet off. He stumbled a little before catching his balance then ran as fast as he was able up the stairs to his apartment’s door. At least, he thought it was his apartment. He hoped it was. Yes! The key worked! His apartment! With only a little difficultly, he got the door open and stood waiting for Alfred, wide smile in place.

There was hesitance in Alfred’s movements as he abandoned his bike in favor of walking into the apartment. He wasn’t so sure this was a good idea, but he didn’t want to risk upsetting Arthur, so he offered a smile as he walked past him into the building. It was spotless, as he’d known it would be. No way would Arthur ever leave a mess behind. Before he could go very far, the Englishman bustled past him, kicked off his shoes, and headed straight down the hall.

“This’…bloody…impossible…”

There was that adorable drunk bit showing up again.

Chuckling quietly, Al moved forward and gently moved Arthur’s hands away from the buttons. “Let me.” The shorter blond immediately held perfectly still, almost seeming to not even breathe as first his waist coat and then his shirt were unbuttoned; Alfred removed his bowtie, too, just in case. “There. Can you get the rest yourself?”

“Mm…”

Shit, he could see the wheels turning, knew Arthur was thinking this out in a way that probably shouldn’t happen.

“Help.” Arthur pointed at the buckle of his belt.

_Fucking great._

Stripping Arthur was on his To Do list but seriously, now? When he was drunk? Not a good idea! Still, he kept silent as he knelt in front of the drunk blond and carefully opened the belt.

“Trousers.”

_Damn it. Fuck. Shit._

It was getting really hard not to take advantage of the situation as he popped the button on Arthur’s pants and pulled down the zipper. The white fabric of briefs greeted him, along with a small, tell-tale bulge that made Alfred’s entire body feel uncomfortably warm. Arthur was hard. Arthur was drunk, standing right in front of him asking to be undressed, and he was partially erect.

_I’m going to die. This is going to kill me. He’ll be pissed if I turn him down but he’ll be pissed later if I accept and oh my god what am I supposed to do?_

But the decision was taken from him as Arthur shimmied, wiggled his hips in just the right way to make his pants fall and pool around his ankles.

Holy fucking thighs.

They were perfect, creamy white from lack of sun, thin but still with a slight sensual curve and they looked so damned soft that he wanted to run his hands up them and squeeze them a little and kiss them and lick and—

_Whump._

Arthur’s waistcoat and shirt hit the floor, leaving him in nothing but his socks, briefs and sleeveless undershirt. Everything about him was slim and pale, soft as silk. Even his eyes had taken on a tender look as they gazed down at Alfred, only partially open to show just a hint of that beautiful green. His hair was mussed as if he’d run his hands through it.

“Artie…”

“Mm?”

Slowly, Alfred stood and caressed the smaller male’s cheek. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, and a light blush appeared on the Brit’s features.

“Yeah.” It came out on a breath, barely audible, his lips parted in an inviting way, eyes wide.

_To hell with it._

Both hands went to Arthur’s hair, tilting his head back, and Alfred kissed him. Arms encircled his neck, pulled him down and forward until their bodies pressed together. Alfred’s first instinct was to run his hands down Arthur’s back, grab that perfect little ass and lift him up, toss him onto the bed and trap him there, leave no room for escape. So he did. But slowly, taking the time to caress the bones and muscles under his fingers as his hands worked their way down, and Arthur reacted to the touch by arching his stomach into Al’s, a soft moan escaping him.

“A-Alfred…”

“Fuck, Artie.” Finally, he encountered the waistband of Arthur’s briefs and took a moment to tease the sensitive flesh there, let Arthur wonder what exactly he would do next. The Brit’s breath caught in his throat. Alfred knew what he wanted and deliberately didn’t give it to him, kept his hands outside the smaller male’s underwear as he cupped his rear, one cheek fitting perfectly in each hand, and squeezed just enough that Arthur whined pitifully.

“N-no…don’t tease me…”

“Sorry.” And he lifted, easily picked Arthur right up off his feet and took the few steps necessary to drop the smaller male onto the bed. Arthur bounced slightly on the mattress, looked up at Alfred with flushed cheeks and uneven breaths, shrank away as the American crawled over him. Hot, open-mouthed kisses were dropped on the Englishman’s body as Alfred moved up, eventually putting them face-to-face again.

“Artie.”

“Yeah?”

There was so much want and need in those green eyes that it almost hurt Alfred to look at. How could he refuse this? He wanted Arthur, didn’t he? Wanted him more than he wanted anything in the world. Just…not like this.

“We’re not doing this while you’re drunk.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped. “You…I…you git!” Embarrassment and anger replaced the other emotions he’d been displaying and he lifted a hand to slap Al, only to have his wrist caught in mid-air.

“Hey, relax.” Alfred kissed the golden blond’s palm then let his wrist go. “Any time you want, all right? But not when you’re drunk. You’ll hate me in the morning if I do you right now, and I don’t want that. Okay? It’s bed time—I’ll sleep on the couch in case you need anything.”

Slowly, the green-eyed gaze was lowered and Arthur turned his head away. It was as clear of a dismissal as Alfred was going to get, so he placed a tender kiss on the Brit’s cheek before he got up. He tugged the blankets loose as Arthur lay down on his side, his back to the American, and tucked them around his curled form so he wouldn’t get cold.

“Night, Artie.” Another kiss, this one to his temple, then he gathered the Brit’s discarded clothes and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Okay, he’d gotten Arthur into bed. He might have done a little bit more than that, but he’d gotten Arthur into bed and the green-eyed blond was probably already fast asleep. Now what?

“Ah…hamper. Hamper, hamper, hamper.”

It didn’t take long for him to find the hall closet where the washing machine was, and he tossed Arthur’s clothes into the hamper beside it. There were blankets folded and neatly stacked on a shelf, so he chose two and wandered back into the living room. Ooh, the couch was a bit small for him, but he’d make it work. He’d promised Arthur he would stay, and he wasn’t going to leave just because the couch wouldn’t be as nice as his bed.

Abandoning the blankets on the couch for now, he searched the kitchen cabinets for a glass and filled it with water, then snuck back into the bedroom and to the bathroom. A small medicine cabinet provided a few painkillers, which he left on the nightstand by the water—by all appearances, Arthur was in a deep sleep. He was probably going to need those pills in the morning.

Satisfied by his work, Alfred cast a small smile over his shoulder as he left the bedroom again, and headed for the couch. It wouldn’t be the best night’s sleep he’d ever gotten, but taking care of Arthur put a content feeling in his chest that had him smiling as he shook out the blankets and settled as comfortably on the couch as he could.

Tomorrow morning was definitely going to be interesting.


	15. Chapter 15

God. Why. He should have said no. Drinking with Gilbert was never a good idea. The ache in his head and the bitter, thick taste that covered every surface of his mouth were proof that last night hadn’t been a good idea at all. What had happened? They’d just gone for a drink, the four of them, and evidently he’d had more than just a drink.

_Hell. What did I do?_

Getting drunk with Alfred—who had barely drank because he was driving—was an awful decision. The American must think so poorly of him now. All the ideas that went through Arthur’s head must have come tumbling out of his mouth.

“No,” the Brit mourned, curling around himself as the full brunt of his hangover hit him. Too much alcohol and no water. At least he hadn’t gotten sick. He didn’t think so, anyway, and he thought the taste would be different if he had.

_Not in front of Alfred._

It was embarrassing and shameful and he’d probably humiliated himself and it was all Gilbert’s fault. That damn Prussian _knew_ how Arthur got when he drank and he’d probably done it on purpose, the git.

Alfred almost had to think the Brit was an ass. None of this had been fair to the American, none of it. Right from the off, Arthur had been temperamental and overly sensitive. He was practically a tease. Now Alfred would think he was a drunkard.

What had he said? What had he _done?_ The memories he found of the leaving the Green Dragon were fuzzy at best. He vaguely remembered getting back to his apartment and was relieved that he was at least in his own bed, presumably alone, and he still had his pants on.

_Could have been worse. Might have snogged him._

Snogging he could handle, since they’d kissed before, but it was much too early to consider anything else. It wouldn’t surprise him to find out he’d tried to get Alfred to shag him last night. There was a good chance of that and Arthur was very, very glad that so far it seemed to not have happened.

But then…where was Alfred?

_Probably left. I wouldn’t stay to take care of me. At least he got me home._

Still, the thought of trying to contact the American after last night was daunting. The thought of getting out of bed was, too, and he didn’t even want to think about going to work. Not if he was going to have to see Gilbert’s smug grin. He had to go, though. It would be unprofessional to skip work because of a hangover and a dose of potent humiliation.

Groaning and grimacing, the blond sat up and rubbed his eyes. His stomach churned and growled, sending the sensations of nausea and hunger through him.

“God…”

His pulse pounded in his ears as he cracked his eyes open just far enough to peer around the room. The lights were off; it was silent except for the unhappy sounds emitting from his stomach. Ugh, he didn’t know if he should attempt breakfast or not. It might make him sick but he wasn’t likely to make it until lunch time if he skipped. Maybe if he showered first—which he definitely needed to do—and took some painkillers, he’d be able to manage some toast. But that required getting out of bed and going to the medicine cabinet.

With a resigned sigh, Arthur pushed the blankets off his nearly naked body and swung his legs over the edge of the bed so that his feet rested on the floor. He rubbed at his face with both hands, felt little crusty bits come away from the corners of his eyes, and ran his tongue over his teeth only to make a disgusted face. Brushing his teeth would come before his shower.

“Okay.” He set his jaw and moved to stand, noticing at the last second that a glass of water sat on his nightstand. It definitely hadn’t been put there by him, and the two pills beside it signified a mind much more capable of thinking ahead than his would have been before he fell asleep.

Alfred had left him water and painkillers.

It put a smile on Arthur’s face to imagine the handsome American tucking him in and making sure he wouldn’t even have to get out of bed before he started treating his hangover.

_Perfect ruddy git._

Still smiling, he first sipped a bit of the water to help clear some of the foul taste out of his mouth before he took the pills. He finished the rest of the water in a few large gulps and left the empty glass on the nightstand before wandering into the bathroom. Undershirt, pants and socks were abandoned in a pile before he cranked on the hot water, letting it run for a bit to heat up before he plugged the drain and started adding soap. The hot water and steam should help clear his head, and the water had done him a world of good, too. So while the tub filled, Arthur combed his hair out and brushed his teeth, flossed them, and rinsed with mouthwash to remove anything that hadn’t already been cleaned out. The minty taste made him feel more awake and he took advantage of it by getting himself another glass of water as the tub continued to fill. Refreshingly cold, the water soothed his throat and helped settle his stomach, and by the time he was finished with it, the tub was full.

With a happy sigh, Arthur climbed into the tub and slid down into the water until it lapped at his chin. Oh, yes, this was heaven. Baths really were one of the greatest pleasures in this world.

“Artie?”

Startled, the Englishman sat up in his bath and looked towards the open bathroom door. “…Alfred?”

Footsteps approached the bathroom and Alfred appeared, still dressed in his clothes from last night, though he’d discarded his blazer at some point. “Morning.” He was grinning as he leaned against the doorframe. “How ya feelin’?”

“Better. Thank you for the pills and water.”

“No problem. So, I figured I’d make us breakfast then drive you to work. It’s almost eight; when does your shift start?”

“Not until nine. Breakfast sounds lovely.”

The American’s grin widened. “Great.” He turned and left again, and Arthur put his hands over his face.

Bloody hell, Alfred was in his apartment, had spent the night and was going to make him breakfast and drive him to work. The man was perfect.

_I don’t deserve him one little bit._

But he’d cling to the blond model selfishly, greedily, if he had to. He’d put up a fight to keep him and stay in contact with him even when the American left at the end of the summer. If Alfred was willing to get him home safely when he was drunk and then stay the night to help him get to work the next morning, then he was worth putting in the effort of a long-distance relationship.

Yes, he wanted to be in a relationship with him. Up until now, he’d only let himself see these as casual dates, and they’d only been on two, technically, but this, this was something different. He’d never met anyone like Alfred Jones before.

Enticed by the idea of breakfast being made for him by the attractive tourist, Arthur hurried through his bath a little more than he normally would have, and made sure to comb his hair neatly after he’d dressed. His usual business clothes seemed boring compared to what he’d worn last night, but he knew he looked good in the fitted slacks and button-down and neatly done tie, so he refused to feel self-conscious about it. Alfred was still in his old clothes, after all, so there was no reason for Arthur to worry about how he looked.

“Artie! Breakfast is ready!”

That was something he could stand to hear every morning as he dressed. Yes, he would be more than okay with waking up to those blue eyes and that smile, bathing and dressing while Alfred made breakfast, eating with the American and kissing him goodbye after the short ride to the bank. Except those mornings when the taller blond was gone early for a photoshoot, and then Arthur imagined that they would both wake up a little earlier to share several kisses before the bespectacled model left.

Imagining it made Arthur feel warm inside, made his heart feel like it was swelling up with happiness. Living with Alfred was a perfect scenario in his head.

After taking one last look in the mirror to check his appearance, Arthur left the bedroom and headed down the short hall to the kitchen. He’d expected to find Alfred in the kitchen or at his small table with a couple plates of food, dressed in his rumpled slept-in purple shirt and slacks. He got the bit about standing in the kitchen right, and there was a plate in one of Alfred’s hands that the American was piling food onto, but the rest of the image took him completely by surprise. Alfred’s clothes from the night before were missing, and instead the tall blond was shirtless, a pair of Arthur’s barely used grey sweatpants clinging to his hips. They sat low enough that the man’s boxer-briefs were visible, along with the sharp points of his hip bones.

Mesmerized, Arthur swallowed hard as his eyes raked over the other male. So many muscles that rippled and shifted beneath perfectly tanned skin. The gel in his hair had been worked out, making his ash blond bangs fall in his face as he worked at the stove. His ankles showed because the sweatpants were too short, and they were too tight in just the right way to show off a firm backside and muscular thighs.

Arthur felt his mouth starting to water. The sight of Alfred sent his mind back to his imaginings of living with the man, but they were considerably different imaginings now. He imagined seeing Alfred just like that every morning, imagined hugging the American around his waist and kissing those muscular shoulders and that back that was sexier than a back really had right to be. It would make the model grin and laugh and he’d turn, hug Arthur close and kiss him with a whispered, “good morning.” Sometimes, that kiss would be enough. Other times, though, Arthur thought he would need more than just a good morning kiss to start his day.

_Still kissing the taller blond, the Brit sent one hand down to tug at the waistband of Alfred’s sweatpants and felt the mouth moving against his own form a grin._

“Hungry?” There was a teasing light in those blue eyes.

“Yeah.”

_Hands held his waist and lifted him, the American using hardly any effort to pick Arthur up and set him on an empty section of countertop. More kissing as they both worked to unbutton his shirt and open his trousers; Alfred would take one hand away to free himself from his sweatpants. Touches on his chest and stomach and hips, everywhere but where he really wanted it because Alfred always had to tempt and taunt him before giving in._

“Arthur? You okay?”

Startled out of his daydream, Arthur jumped and blushed darkly to find Alfred standing just in front of him with a concerned look on his handsome face. His imagination had really gotten away from him, and being this close to the body he’d just imagined touching made his heart pound even harder.

“U-uh,” he gulped and averted his gaze, “yes, fine.” 

_Too soon, idiot. Don’t imagine such things if you’re not ready to_ do _them._

Before Alfred could question him further, the Brit stepped to the side and moved around him so he could sit at the table. Two full plates of food sat waiting, accompanied by glasses of orange juice and a third plate with a short stack of toast on it. Salt, pepper, butter, and jam sat ready off to the side. The plates bore strips of bacon and scrambled eggs that looked like they had cheese melted onto them. It all looked absolutely delicious.

“I didn’t know you cooked, Alfred,” he commented by way of starting a conversation on something other than himself. The images of his fantasy continued to plague him as Alfred sat down across from him and picked up his fork.

“I had to learn during those years I was on my own before I met Feliks,” the bespectacled blond explained. “Fe can’t cook for shit and Tor takes care of so many other chores that cooking is usually my job.”

“Do you all live together?” Arthur wasn’t disappointed when he took the first bite of his eggs—they tasted just as good as they looked.

“Yeah. It’s easier—Feliks keeps a studio-style apartment in New York near his office building where we all work. Having me close makes it easier for him to schedule last-minute shoots, plus he likes to use me as his personal Ken Doll to plan new outfits for shows.”

Arthur sipped his orange juice. “I thought you said you don’t do shows.”

“I don’t, but I’m still useful like a mannequin would be. Feliks just has more fun dressing me up than he does a doll.”

“This Feliks sounds like an interesting man.”

“He’s definitely an unusual guy,” Alfred replied, his tone amused like he was enjoying some private joke that Arthur wasn’t privy too. It roused his curiosity and he felt the desire to ask what was so funny, but he resisted. Mostly likely, it was something Feliks had said or done once that the model was remembering. No reason for him to dig into Alfred’s business.

The pair continued eating in silence until both plates were empty and Alfred was putting jam on the last slice of toast.

“That was delicious,” Arthur complimented with a smile as he patted his belly. It was slightly distended from the amount of food he’d just eaten, which was more than he usually had for breakfast. But Alfred’s cooking really was too good for him to pass up, so he’d barely noticed how full he was getting as he ate. Finishing the last bite had been both disappointing and satisfying.

“Thanks.” Alfred grinned before starting to eat the toast.

Feeling full and sated, Arthur stood and took the empty plates to the sink. Normally, he would rinse them off and load them into the dishwasher before leaving for work, but he had only fifteen minutes before his shift started. If it weren’t for Alfred, he would have been running out the door in order to walk there in time.

“I’ll go change and we’ll go.”

“All right.”

With half of the slice of toast still in his mouth, Alfred retrieved his clothes from the couch and went back to Arthur’s bedroom in order to dress. Arthur slipped on his shoes and tied them to give him something to think about other than the American stripping down in his bedroom. What he wouldn’t give to be the one tugging those sinfully tight sweatpants off Alfred’s gorgeous frame.

_No, no, none of that. He’s an American model who’s leaving in August and you’re a respectable bank employee. You have a reputation to uphold and you are not going to lose it for the sake of shagging a tourist, not even one as desirable as Alfred._

Oh, but he wanted to. Seeing Alfred in his kitchen like that had awakened a part of himself that Arthur hadn’t felt since he was a teenager. He hadn’t wanted to have kitchen sex in years, yet here he was still recovering from a fantasy about Alfred putting him up on the counter and halfway stripping him for just that reason. And now he was on the verge of imagining being in the bedroom with him, forgoing work in favor of indulging his body. It was a struggle worthy of the old gods of myth and Arthur had to bite his lip to remind himself to stay in the kitchen.

Thankfully, his torture was cut short when Alfred appeared in the hallway, fully clothed and looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine.

“Ready?” he asked as he stepped into his shoes.

Arthur only nodded, afraid that he would squeak if he tried to talk. Smiling, Alfred took the Briton’s hand into his own and pulled him towards the door. “Then let’s go. I don’t want to make you late.”

They left the apartment and Arthur took a moment to lock the door behind them, then it was down the stairs and onto the motorcycle that was waiting by the curb. It occurred to Arthur that he might be questioned about it if he showed up to work with the same man he’d brought to the party last night, especially since no one but Gilbert had even known Arthur had met someone until then. He was just going to have to deal with whatever came his way, though, because now he had barely ten minutes to get there and his pride wasn’t worth being late to work for.

Now much more comfortable on the bike than he had been the first time, he settled comfortably behind Alfred and held onto the American’s waist as they drove through the streets. There wasn’t much traffic yet, especially because Arthur lived in a quieter neighborhood, but they soon reached one of the major commuting roads and joined the lines of cars. Even with the traffic, they arrived at the bank with a couple of minutes to spare, and Arthur climbed off the bike in an unhurried manner.

“Have a good day, Artie.” Alfred helped the shorter blond remove the helmet then kissed his cheek. “See you later?”

Arthur smiled at the kiss and nodded. “Definitely.”

“Cool.” Another kiss, this one to his mouth as a large, calloused hand cupped his cheek, then Alfred let him go and Arthur headed inside. He could feel the American’s gaze on his back all the way to the front doors, and for a moment had the irrational thought that Alfred might watch him through the walls like Superman with his x-ray vision.

To his relief, no one stopped him on his way to his office, and he settled into his desk at precisely nine o’clock. A strange night followed by a morning that could only be described as interesting put him in a good mood, or was that just the side effect of being around Alfred? He supposed it didn’t matter. Either way, his headache was gone, he’d gotten one of the best breakfasts of his life, and Alfred didn’t seem to have judged him at all for his behavior the night before. Even the half-formed fantasies he’d had weren’t enough to dim the smile he felt lifting the corners of his mouth as he started working.

It was going to be a good day.


	16. Chapter 16

As soon as he opened the door to the hotel suite, Alfred tasted the lingering traces of pleasure that laced the air.

_Hungry._

Hell, not now. He didn’t want to feed right now, he wanted to shower and relax and reminisce about the memories he’d acquired of Arthur that morning. The Brit was adorable even when he was hungover, and when he’d first come into the kitchen…

Alfred didn’t know how he’d managed to hold himself back. Being able to sense the arousal of other beings had always been useful to him as an incubus, but with Arthur it was like a curse. No one would have been able to devise a worse form of torture than for him to be around the smaller blond and _know_ when Arthur was aroused or even just a little horny and have to act like he had no idea and do nothing about it. It had taken him a little off-guard to be hit so suddenly. His senses had been overwhelmed. The fact that he hadn’t abandoned breakfast and ravished Arthur where he stood was a miracle in of itself.

Luckily, the Englishman had calmed while they ate, and by the time Alfred had dropped him off at the bank, there had been hardly a hint of Arthur’s earlier excitement. Even less than what now filled the hotel rooms, and despite the fact that the lights were off, Alfred had no trouble finding the source.

Naked and tangled in each other, Feliks and Toris lay on one of the couches, nearly asleep in their post-coital bliss. The sight was enough to make Alfred want to lick his lips. All that bare flesh and warmth, supple bodies already sated but always welcoming should he need to satisfy his immortal appetite. His friends were a sight to see, and after the trying morning he’d had, he was in need of a little attention.

Without a word, the tall American dropped his keys on the table just inside the door and shrugged out of his blazer. The bodies on the couch stirred and two pairs of eyes peered at him through the darkness, watching as he moved closer and dropped articles of clothing on his way. By the time he reached the couch, he was only wearing his boxers, and the nymph and faerie had rearranged themselves so that he could sit between them. Arms wrapped around his neck and Feliks nuzzled his cheek.

“How was your date?” the green-eyed nymph asked, tilting his head and giving Alfred a quizzical look.

“It was great, but Arthur was horny this morning and after resisting that, I’m starving.”

Toris shifted onto his knees and rested his cheek on the model’s shoulder. “Why’d you resist? I thought you wanted him.”

“I do, but I’m not just gonna fuck him in his kitchen while he has a hangover. If I wanted it to be that one-night-standish, I’d have done him last night when he was drunk and making me strip him.”

“He made you strip him and you _still_ haven’t nailed him? You’re losing your touch, Incubutt.”

Alfred rolled his eyes and stretched his arms back to let them rest along the back of the couch. In response, his companions snuggled into his sides and hugged him around the middle to steal some of his body heat.

“I’m not losing my touch, Fe. Arthur’s just worth more than a meal.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” The nymph looked up at him again. “Did you at least have fun? Are you going to keep seeing him?”

“I had a great time. His friends are really cool and the more time I spend with him the more interesting he gets. I’m pretty sure I gained his trust last night and this morning, so yeah, I’ll see him again.”

“Of course he trusts you. He drank around you,” Toris pointed out, earning a smile from the American.

“Yeah.”

“So he was horny this morning?” Feliks was too curious to resist asking. “What, like, happened?”

Still hungry but not to the point of losing his patience with the conversation, Alfred let his arms fall forward and around two pairs of narrow shoulders. “I’m not sure. I was making breakfast and he came in to eat and suddenly he was flooding me with it and I almost can’t believe I didn’t fuck him. He calmed himself down pretty quickly, but that was one of the best and worst breakfasts of my long-ass life.”

It was quiet for a few moments as Feliks shifted to tuck his legs under himself and rested more fully against the American sitting beside him. “When are you going to see him again?”

With a shrug, Alfred buried his face in blond hair and breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of the fire nymph. “Whenever he wants.”

“You’re spoiling him, Alfred,” Toris half-teased, and Feliks giggled.

“Of course he is. Our Incubutt’s a genuine-born gentleman.” The nymph was obviously proud to be able to say that, even though he was being mostly playful. “He’s the most considerate lover Arthur will ever have.”

The two mythicals shared a look and grin.

Moving slowly, Toris sat up straighter and began kissing Alfred’s shoulder as one of his hands rubbed across the incubus’ chest. “Especially if Arthur’s his mate.”

“Lucky bastard,” Feliks purred, his attention going to the bespectacled blond’s neck. “Being your food is one thing. I can’t even, like, imagine what being your mate would be like.”

“Heavenly.” Toris cooed the word and caught the curve of Alfred’s ear in his teeth to tease and lick.

Trapped between the pair the way he was, Alfred didn’t have much hope of escape, and he didn’t want to. Feliks and Toris might have been mates but they took advantage of his particular set of needs whenever he gave them an opportunity. It was “a special sort of kink for them,” as Feliks had once put it. Apparently, the nymph and faerie rather enjoyed watching each other get off, even if it wasn’t with each other. Alfred didn’t usually indulge them, but since he’d met Arthur, he didn’t want to feed off just anyone. What if the Brit saw him flirting with someone else? He didn’t want the man to think he was toying with him, so he was limiting himself to what Feliks and Toris were only too willing to give.

Today, it seemed they wanted to give him a second breakfast with a heaping helping of compliments on the side.

X

It was noon and Arthur should have been hungry, but after the amount of food Alfred had made that morning, his stomach wasn’t ready for more yet. He’d still gone on his usual lunch break, which meant a short walk to a nearby café to enjoy some fresh tea and relax until his meal was ready. Warm buttered bread sat on a plate in the center of the table, a small one set for two, and he ate a few bites between sips of tea. His usual lunch was lemon-grilled chicken breast and steamed vegetables with light seasoning, enough to tide him over for the rest of the work day but not enough to make him feel over full and sluggish. It might be a little much today, but that was all right. The walk back to the bank would be enough to wake him up.

“More tea, sir?” The waiter appeared so suddenly that it almost startled him.

“Yes, thank you.” Arthur watched idly as his cup was filled with new tea, steaming and giving off a delicious aroma. This café had quickly earned his favor through the tea they served and the manners of the staff.

It shouldn’t take much longer for his food to arrive. His meal wasn’t complicated and it was never a long wait. Today, he wouldn’t have minded if it took a little longer than normal. That would give him time to digest a little more breakfast, and he rather liked sitting quietly with his tea and bread while he enjoyed the weather.

Blue skies and a warm breeze. Clouds probably lurked behind buildings but he didn’t dwell on them. There would be time for the rain if it decided to come and until then he wouldn’t worry. What would be the point in ruining his good day?

_Lovely day. Brilliant day._

Waking up had been unpleasant but Arthur still wouldn’t have bothered complaining about that. Everything after—Alfred making him breakfast and driving him to work—had been unexpectedly perfect. Even work itself had been going well. Gilbert hadn’t arrived at all and was probably at home trying to sleep through his hangover, so Arthur hadn’t had to put up with any teasing. Rather, his coworkers had found opportunities to compliment him on his date. It had been a boost to his self-confidence to be sure, but now that he had a few moments to think, he was even more surprised at himself for his imaginings that morning.

_Kitchen sex? Before work? Waking up next to him? Two dates, Arthur, that’s all._

Yes, he’d decided to go on this whirlwind romance adventure, and Alfred seemed so perfect that sometimes it was hard to believe the man was real. But he was getting way ahead of himself here, and Arthur was starting to think that perhaps he needed to take a step back and examine the circumstances. An adventure like this didn’t mean he was supposed to lose his head and his dignity. What would he think of himself if things didn’t work out with Alfred? If he let himself get carried away and slept with the American, was more reckless than he had been since his adolescence, and ended up with nothing to show for it but a bruised heart and shattered ego?

“Here you are, sir. Enjoy.” Arthur was too deep in thought to acknowledge the waiter or the fact that his food was now waiting for him to eat it. A whirlwind romance adventure sounded great in theory, and all the flicks and novels made him want to think it would work out, but he’d never been good at this. The fact that Alfred had even wanted a second date was almost a miracle in of itself.

“Hey, Kirkland, zhought I’d find you here.”

The familiar voice dragged the Brit out of his brooding and he looked up to see Gilbert walking towards him. There were bags under his red eyes and he didn’t look quite as put together as he usually did for work, but he was dressed formally and Arthur guessed the man had taken the morning off to recover and had decided to come in for the afternoon.

“Hello, Gilbert,” Arthur greeted before sipping his tea—luckily still warm—then picked up his silverware and started cutting the chicken into bite-size pieces.

“How ya feelin?” With a grin, Gilbert occupied the empty chair across from Arthur and waved down a waiter so he could order a coffee.

“I’m all right.”

“Have a good night?”

“I didn’t shag Alfred, if that’s what you’re asking.” His tone was a little sharper than he meant for it to be, but Gilbert paid it no mind and rolled his eyes.

“I zhought you vanted to screw him. He’s hot. Vhy vouldn’t you?”

“Because I’m not a hussie and I don’t shag on the second date. That’s your territory.”

“Hey, be fair,” the albino scolded lightly, “I’ve been dating Roderich for almost a year. My promiscuous days are over.”

That was true enough, and Arthur knew how much of a difference the prim and proper Austrian had made on his friend. Gilbert had settled down a great deal since meeting Roderich. “It’s still too early. I haven’t known him for nearly long enough.”

“But you do vant to, don’t you?”

Of course he did, but did he want to admit that to Gilbert? Then again, the Prussian was the only person Arthur knew who might actually be able to help him understand himself.

Glancing around, Arthur leaned forward over the table and lowered his voice, “I do, but that’s the problem.”

Gilbert mimicked his friend’s posture and tone. “How is zhat a problem?”

“You know how I was in high school,” the Brit began, and a large smirk appeared on the other man’s face.

“ _Ja,_ Griffin,” Gilbert said the name with a suggestive tone that made Arthur’s face turn a particularly embarrassed shade of red.

“Yes, well, I thought I’d outgrown all that quite some time ago. I’m a respectable man with a respectable job and I have very few souvenirs of my youth left over.”

“Vhich is not awesome,” the albino pointed out, and Arthur sighed.

“Right. What I mean is, Alfred somehow makes me feel like a bloody teenager again. This morning,” he paused, looking down and speaking even more softly, “this morning I wanted to shag him in my kitchen.”

“You didn’t tell me he vas vizh you zhis morning.”

Naturally, Gilbert would ignore the important part.

“He slept on my couch last night and made me breakfast this morning.”

A gleam came into the Prussian’s eye as he sat back in his chair and whistled. “Look at you, Kirkland. Found yourself a model who vants to make sure you get home safe und cooks for you. I zhink he’s a keeper.”

“Will you shut it? I’m trying to tell you that Alfred makes me want things I haven’t wanted in years, and you’re making jokes about someone finally meeting my standards.” His embarrassment made Arthur gruff and he found himself looking down at his half empty plate rather than at the man he was talking to. It would be too much to see the smug smirk that was probably on Gilbert’s face.

“Kitchen sex isn’t zhat veird, Arzhur,” Gilbert pointed out. “Rod _und_ I have done veirder.”

“It’s weird for _me._ I don’t do things like that, Gilbert, not in years. Why is it that all I have to do is see Alfred standing at my stove and suddenly I want him to put me up on the counter and—” he stopped mid-sentence, blushing, and prayed that Gilbert would actually try to help and not just make fun of him.

“Arzhur, zhis isn’t as big of a deal as you zhink it is.” Despite Arthur’s worry of being teased, Gilbert spoke in a quiet, soothing tone. “You like him. Is zhat so hard to believe?”

“Liking him and…what I think about are two very, very different things.”

“Vhat do you zhink about?”

“I think about waking up next to him every morning and having breakfast together and kissing him and riding that damn motorcycle all over the city together.”

“I zhink zhe bike’s sexy.”

“So did I,” Arthur muttered, his mind conjuring a foggy memory of how he’d behaved last night when Alfred drove him home from the Green Dragon. Had he really behaved so shamefully? Good Lord, he must have looked like such a fool.

“Hey,” Gilbert was leaning forward with his head tilted so he could see Arthur’s face, “vhatever you zhink you did, it probably vasn’t zhat bad. He stayed _und_ took care of you, _ja?_ He likes you. Vhen I met him in zhe pub, he told me he’d met somevone he really liked. He vas talking about you, Arzhur, _und_ even vhen I made passes at him, he didn’t reciprocate. Don’t vorry so much.”

“But that’s what I do,” Arthur said with a weak smile. It made him feel better to hear that from Gilbert, that even when someone else had clearly taken an interest in Alfred, the American hadn’t accepted the albino’s advances. He liked Arthur enough that, even though they weren’t going steady or exclusive, he hadn’t hooked up with a stranger the way Arthur thought the bespectacled blond wanted when they first met.

“You don’t need to. Trust me, Arzhur, vhatever it is you vant to do vizh Alfred, I’m pretty sure he vants to do it, too. Zhe vay he looks at you makes it obvious.”

_The way he looks at me?_

Oh, wow, he hadn’t expected to hear that.

“See? You’re blushing. Two dates _und_ you’re head over heels for a sexy American tourist.” Grinning, Gilbert leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Arzhur Kirkland, you’re in love.”

_No, don’t say that. I can’t be in love with him already. It’s too soon. I don’t do anything this quickly. At least, not before Alfred._

“Maybe I am,” the Brit admitted quietly. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to look his friend in the eye. “But what happens when he goes back to America in August?”

That brought Gilbert up short and for several moments the albino was left speechless. “I guess zhat depends on you.”

“I like him enough to stay in touch with him when he leaves, that’s for sure. But how do I know if I’m taking things too fast? I wanted to shag him last night, I’m sure of it, and it’s a miracle that we didn’t. That was probably him refusing to take advantage of the fact that I’d been drinking—perfect ruddy git—and I’m grateful for it. I would have hated myself if I woke up to find out I’d slept with him already. He made this morning more bearable than a hangover has right to be.” Arthur knew he was rambling a bit and that he really was starting to sound like a love-sick idiot, but he didn’t care. The look Gilbert was giving him was a mix of amusement and the sort of smug victory that made Arthur think the albino was on the verge of saying “I told you so” even though he hadn’t actually told the Englishman anything. “I told myself that agreeing to go on a date with him would be good for me, stepping out of my comfort zone and trying something new.”

“ _Und_ it vill be.” There was so much confidence in Gilbert’s tone that it would have been almost impossible not to believe him. “You’ve got plenty of time to get to know him better _und_ decide if you’re ready for sex, Arzhur. Stop over-zhinking it _und_ have some fun.”

It was basically the same thing he’d been telling himself ever since he met Alfred, but hearing it from someone other than himself had a lot more effect. Maybe Gilbert wasn’t the most responsible man around, but he’d had his share of experience, and Arthur was more surprised than anything about how he felt around Alfred. He could almost guarantee that he was letting this get to him too much. So what if he wanted to have kitchen sex? He was a man and he’d had sex before, had even been fairly promiscuous at one time. A fling with Alfred (probably) wouldn’t hurt anything and he knew it would be more fun than he’d had in a long time.

“So? Vhat do you say, Kirkland?” One of Gilbert’s white eyebrows was lifted as he waited for the blond to make his decision.

Feeling better now, Arthur smiled and relaxed in his chair. “I think it’s time I lived a little.”

“Good! You need to stop being such a stick in zhe mud!”

Arthur chuckled at his friend’s teasing and picked up his fork again. His lunch break was almost over, but he could finish his meal and walk back in time for the second half of his shift to start. Maybe he’d call or text Alfred after work and see when the American wanted to go out again. Soon, hopefully, and maybe, just maybe, Arthur would let his body make a few decisions next time.


	17. Chapter 17

_Breaths coming in pants, Alfred slid his hands up pale thighs to hold slender hips as his mouth wandered over a soft, sensitive throat. Knees pressed gently against his hips, a constant reminder that he was between the smaller man’s legs while his fingers explored to confirm that he was naked. Alfred grinned and squeezed the body under his hands, heard small sounds and looked up to find slits of green watching him._

_“Good?” he asked, not at all worried that he wasn’t pleasing the blond sitting naked on the countertop before him, fingers wrapped tightly around the edge of the counter._

_Arthur’s cheeks were tinged pink, his neck marred with small bruises left by Alfred’s mouth. “Yeah.”_

_The breathlessness of the Brit’s reply made Alfred grin and he quickly captured the smaller blond’s lips with his own, hands drawing delicate hips forward to press against each other._

_“Alfred…”_

“Wake up, Incubutt!”

Startled out of his sleep by the shout, Alfred sat bolt upright in bed just in time to be pounced on by Feliks. The nymph hit him with enough force to flatten him back on the bed and was up an instant later, bouncing on his hands and knees as his blond hair swung wildly with the movement.

“Get up get up get up!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Al growled, squinting up at the smaller mythical because the lights had been turned on and his eyes weren’t adjusted yet.

“Nothing!” With a wide smile, Feliks stopped bouncing and dropped onto Alfred’s chest, making the incubus grimace when some of the air was forced out of his lungs. “You’re slow!”

“You’re laying on me,” the larger blond pointed out, and Feliks rolled his eyes as if that made absolutely no difference.

“Whatever, Incubutt. Just get your fine ass out of bed so we can, like, go!”

Go? Go where? “What? What time is it?”

“Six!”

“In the _morning?_ Are you _insane?_ ” Disgusted to have been woken from such a nice dream at such an ungodly hour, Alfred turned onto his side, dislodging Feliks, and pulled the blankets up over his head. “We’re on vacation—no way am I getting up before ten.”

“Alfred!” The nymph pouted, his arms folded over his chest. “Alfred, come on!”

“No.”

“Toris!” Feliks shouted, stressing the vowels so that his mate’s name was stretched out into a long whine. “Alfred won’t get up!”

Despite having his eyes closed and the blankets pulled up as Feliks moved to sit on him, Alfred heard the hotel room’s third inhabitant enter his bedroom.

“Did you tell him?” Toris asked, and the weight on Alfred’s side shifted as Feliks shook his head.

“Not yet.”

“Tell me what?” The blankets muffled his voice but the other two mythicals easily understood what Alfred said.

Feliks grinned and shook the incubus happily. “We have a photoshoot today!”

It took a moment for Alfred to understand and accept what had just been said to him, but as soon as he registered what that meant, he turned onto his stomach and pulled the blankets even tighter around himself. “No.”

Instantly, the blond nymph’s face morphed into a pout again. “But, Alfred,” he whined, pushing at the larger male’s shoulders and tugging at the blankets, “I have to see what sort of competition I’m up against! It’s totally a compliment to be asked to do a shoot while we’re here!”

“I don’t care. I’m on vacation. Find a different model.”

“I don’t _want_ a different model.” Lying against the American’s back, Feliks hugged the blanket-covered form and nuzzled at the lump of Alfred’s shoulder. “I want _you_ to dress all sexy in my designs.”

Sometimes, he really wasn’t sure why he stuck around the nymph so much. He worked for Feliks, sure, but it wasn’t exactly common for employer and employee to live together. Or have sex, let alone threesomes with the employer’s faerie boyfriend. Who was he kidding—nothing about his friendship with Feliks and Toris was what someone would call common.

As he lay there, willing himself to go back to sleep despite Feliks’ insisting he get up, Al had to admit that a typical employer-employee relationship would never work out with Feliks. The nymph was too…he couldn’t think of the word. It was right there, but he was tired and it refused to step into the light, so he settled for thinking the nymph had too much personality. And that was why he knew Feliks wasn’t going to give up until he got his ass out of bed and went to the photoshoot with him and Toris.

Resigned, the incubus sighed and pushed against the mattress so that he was on his hands and knees, Feliks now sitting astride his back. “You’re so annoying.”

“Am not!” Despite the minor insult, Feliks was smiling and quickly hugged the large blond as he rested on top of him. “Morning,” he cooed before placing a kiss on Alfred’s cheek.

“I want a reward for putting up with this.”

“Of course. Anything our handsome sex demon wants.”

“You sure about that?” One eyebrow lifted, Alfred looked over his shoulder at the nymph.

“Yep! Now get dressed. We gotta go soon.” Pleased, the nymph climbed off his friend and left the room with a bounce in his step. Alfred waited until he heard the door click shut before he moved, and all he did was collapse back onto his bed.

6am. Feliks thought he’d want to be up at six in the fucking morning to do a photoshoot. He was supposed to be on vacation. Did Feliks even realize what that word meant?

_He thinks his life is a vacation._

Reluctant but resigned, the incubus sat up and stretched his arms above his head. He’d stayed up too late last night to be up this early, but there was no help for it. Feliks wasn’t going to let him back out of this.

“Bastard.” He mumbled it, too tired to really put any hostility into his voice, then forced himself to his feet. Wow, he felt heavy, and sluggish, and totally not ready to get dressed and let Feliks drag him to some studio.

“I don’t hear you moving in there!”

The nymph was worse than a mom.

“I’m going,” Alfred called, the words running together slightly. Dragging his feet, he crossed to the wardrobe and began fumbling through his clothes. It didn’t matter what he ended up with—they would just dress him again once he was there. It was lucky for him that Feliks had somehow conned Toris into doing the packing, though. The faerie had provided him with several pairs of comfortable jeans and even more t-shirts, which Feliks would not have done, so he at least got to change into something he liked. That made this whole getting up early while on vacation thing a little easier. Still, when he finally ventured out of his room and into the kitchen, he opened the fridge and stood there for several moments before it dawned on him that he’d meant to get the milk so he could have a bowl of cereal.

_I am not meant to be up this early._

X

_Everything about you pains my envying_

_Your soul can't hate anything_

_Everything about you is so easy to love ___

____

____

_They're watching you from above_

With a small gasp, Arthur woke and started to push himself up off the bed, only to stop just as suddenly as he’d started. He listened uncomprehendingly, eyes unfocused and hair mussed, until it finally registered just what had woken him, and then he wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or happy.

_What time is it? What’s he want?_

Green eyes barely open, he reached over to the nightstand and clumsily grasped his still-ringing phone. His thumb almost missed the Answer Call button, and then he was on the verge of sleep by the time he got the device to his ear. “Hullo?”

 _“Morning, sleeping beauty,”_ Alfred’s familiar voice sounded through the phone, sighed slightly with sleepiness and a little lower than normal for the same reason. It would have been cute if Arthur had been awake enough to deal with it. As things were, he was too tired to deal with teasing, so he rolled onto his back and let his eyes slide shut, phone resting against the side of his head.

“Morning.”

_“How’d ya sleep?”_

“Fine, until some git woke me up way too early.” Maybe he wasn’t too tired for teasing.

_“Oh, I see. What if that git has an invitation for you?”_

Invitation? “What sort of invitation? To what?”

_“Feliks accepted an offer to do a photoshoot this morning and I was wondering if you wanted to come along.”_

A photoshoot? With Alfred? That’s right, he was a model. Photoshoots were a normal thing for him, but why so bloody early?

“Um…maybe…when…?”

_“We’d be there to pick you up in about fifteen minutes. You can ride with us and get lunch afterwards.”_

_“It’d be like a double date!”_ a second voice shouted in the background of the call.

A double date with Alfred and…what was his boss’ name? Feliks? Yes, that was it. That must mean that Feliks had a date, as well.

“Fifteen minutes….I can do that.”

 _“Really?”_ There was clear relief in the American’s tone.

“Yes.”

_“Great! We’ll be there in fifteen—and if you’re really sleepy, I’ll let you snuggle with me on the way there.”_

Arthur blushed through his sleepiness and pouted even though there was no one there to see it. “Shut it, wanker. I’ll see you in a bit.”

The other man’s chuckle sounded. _“See ya.”_ The line went dead a moment later and Arthur let out a sigh. It was dark in his room and so comfortable in his bed. Falling back asleep would have been so easy, would only have taken a moment or two, but he’d said he would go. They were coming to pick him up.

In fifteen minutes.

His eyes flew open and he launched himself out of bed, blankets flying. “I need to shower!” Hastily, the golden blond stripped out of his pajamas and started the water in his bathtub. How was he supposed to get ready on such short notice?! He needed to bathe and get dressed—he needed at least half an hour! And it was to see _Alfred!_ At a _photoshoot!_ Everyone there would be models or photographers or clothing designers—they would all be awake and well-dressed and then he would be some half-asleep frump! No one would ever believe that Alfred was actually interested in him!

“Hell hell hell!”

The water wasn’t warm enough yet but he climbed into the tub anyway, cursing and shivering at the cold, and washed himself as quickly as he could without splashing water all over the floor. His hair was hurriedly shampooed and he hoped it wouldn’t be too tangled afterwards so a quick comb would be good enough. A rinse with more cold water had him gritting his teeth and he was out of the tub after only a few minutes. Trembling fingers snatched his towel off the shelf and he wrapped himself up in search of warmth.

“Ohhhh cold. Cold. Very cold.” But he didn’t have time to genuinely warm up so he surrendered the warmth of his towel only a moment later and quickly rubbed the thick cloth over his hair and the rest of his body. Even when he was dry he was cold, so he abandoned the towel and half-sprinted back into his room to get dressed. Pants were the only thing he had the patience for, though he located one of his few pairs of jeans, a plain grey t-shirt and his favorite blazer and tossed them onto the bed to be donned as soon as he was ready.

Still mostly naked, the Brit went back into his bathroom and found his toothbrush, adding a blob of the minty white paste to it before sticking it in his mouth. With one hand, he scrubbed at his teeth, and with the other picked up his comb so he could start on his hair. A few knots slowed him down but for the most part the blond locks separated and smoothed out without trouble. By the time he set his comb down again, he was ready to spit out the foamy bubbles that had filled his mouth during his brushing. This time, the cold water was welcome when he rinsed his mouth out three or four times to make sure he didn’t miss any of the toothpaste.

“Arthur? You in here?” Alfred’s voice called from the front of the apartment.

_Shit!_

“Be with you in a minute!” the blond called, hoping his door was shut so no one would see him running around in just his pants. Water was splashed against his face to clean the toothpaste from the corners of his mouth, then he left the bathroom and began donning the clothes he’d tossed onto his bed.

“Artie?” The American was right outside his door now, and Arthur quickly yanked his shirt down over his stomach just in time for the door to open.

“Hi,” he greeted, breathless, and smiled at Alfred.

The ash blond pushed the door open all the way and moved to stand in the doorway. “Morning. You ready?”

“Yes.” Relieved and now able to relax a little, Arthur picked up his blazer and chose a pair of socks to slip on as he followed Alfred back through his apartment to the front door. His shoes were waiting for him and took only a moment to put on, during which Alfred waited with the door held open.

“What’s, like, taking so long?” a voice asked from outside, and Arthur peered curiously around the taller blond as the two emerged from the apartment into a grey-skied, humid morning. There was a car waiting by the curb, shiny and black and looking brand new, the driver’s window rolled down so a fine-featured blond could stick his head out and look up at the apartment’s front door. “Oh, hi!” he greeted with a smile when he noticed Arthur.

“Hello,” the Englishman replied somewhat quietly, glancing up at Alfred before turning and locking his door.

“That’s Feliks,” the bespectacled model whispered.

“Okay.”

Together, they moved down the stairs to the car, and Alfred opened the door so Arthur could get in first.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Alfred slid in beside him and pulled the door shut. “Go, Fe.”

“Kay!” Feliks put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb, heading off down the street a little faster than was probably legal. It seemed Alfred wasn’t the only one who liked to drive fast, but Arthur was really too relieved that he’d made it to worry. He was bathed and dressed and in the car on the way to Alfred’s photoshoot—now he could relax.

Sighing and smiling, the blond let his shoulders droop as he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. Gentle hands touched his shoulders a moment later, and he looked long enough to find Alfred turning slightly.

“I told you I’d let you snuggle with me, didn’t I?” There was that charming smile.

“Mm…yeah.” Happy, Arthur shifted and settled against the American as Feliks continued to take them towards their destination. He kept his eyes open just a little, idly examining the luxurious interior of the car he was riding in. It was all black leather and sharp edges, elegant and fierce. It was the sort of car a model like Alfred should ride in, when he wasn’t on that motorcycle at least.

When he was bored with the car, he turned his attention to the blond in the driver’s seat. Even though he couldn’t see Feliks’ face from this angle, he could picture the man easily enough from those few moments of seeing him through the driver’s window. His hair was straight and blond, pulled back into a short ponytail that bounced slightly as he nodded in time to the soft music Arthur only just now noticed was coming from the car’s radio. In the front passenger seat was another man, a brunet with slightly shaggy, shoulder-length hair. His right arm was extended slightly, his hand gripping Feliks’, their fingers intertwined. Arthur decided the brunet must be the fourth member of their lunch double-date.

“How much farther, Fe?” Alfred asked once they’d been driving for several minutes.

“Like, keep your shirt on, Al,” the driver responded, glancing over his shoulder with dark, angular green eyes. “We’ll be there soon.” He had very distinct features, a small nose and sharp eyebrows, defined jaw and cheekbones. They were rather effeminate features for a man, but Arthur thought he was attractive. It was little wonder he had the brunet to hold hands with. “This is Toris, by the way,” Feliks continued, lifting the hand that was holding onto the brunet’s.

Toris turned and smiled in a friendly way. “Hello.”

Making an effort to sit up, Arthur returned the other man’s smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Toris.”

“You, too.”

“Al’s told us all about you.” Feliks flashed a smile at the two blonds in the back seat via his rearview mirror.

He did? “Ah, really?” A little nervous, Arthur glanced at the blue-eyed model sitting beside him. “What did he say?”

“Only good things,” Alfred murmured reassuringly, his arm slipping around the smaller male’s waist and pulling him back to rest against him again. While Arthur relaxed once more, Toris turned back to the front and the four rode in near silence for a while.

_Tic…tic, tic…tic….tictictic…._

“Rain.” Leaning forward, Feliks peered at the sky through the windshield as more and more drops spattered against the glass. Within minutes it was pouring, Feliks’ music drowned out by the sound of the rain and that of the car moving. “Why does it always have to rain?”

“It’s England,” Toris pointed out, and Arthur felt himself smile a little.

“I like the rain,” he added in quietly. “It’s peaceful.” Lips pressed into his hair and he looked up to find Alfred smiling at him.

“Me, too.”

Neither of them noticed the look that Toris and Feliks exchanged in the front seats.


	18. Chapter 18

There were so many people, all talking at once and rushing around, making noise that seemed wholly unnecessary. Still not quite awake, Arthur did little more than trail after Alfred and Feliks and Toris. Riding in the car—and cuddling—had very nearly put him back to sleep. If Alfred hadn’t been holding onto his hand, the Brit would have fallen behind and probably gotten lost. But Alfred’s grip was firm, his fingers laced through Arthur’s, and he glanced back now and then with a small smile.

“Mister Łukasiewicz?”

Feliks turned at the sound of his name, pausing and making the others do the same. “Yes?” It was a woman, dressed nicely but a little plainly, her hair pulled back in a sleek, no-nonsense bun—she was obviously a worker instead of a model, though she was fairly pretty.

“Your rooms are this way, if you’ll follow me.”

She turned and led them through the chaos that was the photoset with apparent ease. Alfred clearly wasn’t the only one modeling that morning, and Arthur found himself looking around with sleepy interest, though he was waking up little by little. People rushed in every direction, racks of clothes were being moved around, there was a large space full of cages with a whole menagerie of animals the models could pose with. Arthur stared in slight awe at several rather large snakes before he lost sight of them.

“Mister Jones, here’s your dressing room.” The woman pointed to a door with his name written on a sign hanging from it. “The stylists are ready to begin as soon as you finish dressing.”

Flashing her his signature grin, Alfred nodded once and winked. “Thanks.” The slightest blush appeared on the woman’s cheeks, and Arthur stared at her. He would have wrapped his arms around Alfred’s waist and staked his claim on the American, but his mind wasn’t moving quickly enough. Besides, she had turned to Feliks again and Alfred was tugging on his hand. To his surprise, he was pulled into the bespectacled model’s dressing room.

“I can wait outside,” he offered as Alfred shut the door, shuffling his feet and looking at the floor in an embarrassed sort of way. It wasn’t that the thought of being in a small room with a mostly naked Alfred made him uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. What if he stared? What if he said something stupid? Or worse—what if this turned him on? This would definitely not be the time for that, not with so many people just outside that door.

Smiling, Alfred slipped his arms around the smaller blond and hugged him. “I don’t mind if you’re in here. I can’t change until someone brings me my first outfit, anyway.”

“Oh.” Relaxing against the American’s strong chest, Arthur closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Everything about Alfred was warmth and comfort. “Okay.”

“Yeah.” Slowly, Alfred rubbed Arthur’s back and kissed the Englishman’s shoulder. “Sorry for waking you up so early.”

“It’s fine.”

Alfred smiled and gently squeezed the man in his grasp.

“Mister Jones?” Someone knocked. “Your outfit’s ready.”

Reluctant, the two ended their hug and Alfred opened the door. “Thanks.” He reached outside to accept the clothes brought to him, then closed the door again and turned. “What do you think?” he asked, holding the outfit up for Arthur to see.

Arthur stared, jaw moving uselessly for several moments. “Uh…it…I…”

Lowering his arm, Alfred chuckled dryly and shook his head. “Should’ve known Fe would sign me up for something like this.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Naw, he just said it was a photoshoot.”

“Oh.” Was that really all he could say? _Oh._ Yes, very intelligent. He sounded like a real professional. But he couldn’t think of anything else. What could he say? He was in Alfred’s dressing room with him and the American was going to change into _that._ His fear of being turned on seemed painfully valid now. “Are you, er, still sure you’re okay with me being in here?”

For a moment, Alfred hesitated, head tilting side to side, then his gaze met Arthur’s as he peered over the tops of his glasses. “I think I’d like you to stay.”

Arthur felt himself reddening under that gaze and tucked his chin to his collarbone, though he didn’t break the eye contact. “Okay.”

It was quiet as they regarded each other, then Alfred moved in front of the vanity and hung up his new outfit on a hook protruding from the wall. With his back to Arthur but aware that he was being watched, he pulled his shirt off over his head and dropped it onto a stool by the wall. A glance up let him see Arthur’s reflection in the mirror, his green eyes raking over the American’s figure. Alfred grinned lazily. “Need something?”

Starting, Arthur blushed and quickly looked away. “N-no, just…”

“Just?” Alfred turned, slipping his hands into his jeans pockets, and leaned back against the vanity’s table. His eyebrows were raised just slightly, giving his smile a suggestive edge.

Red-faced and shy but determined, Arthur did his best to smile coyly. “I just wondered if you wanted help.” He kept his tone light and innocent despite the obvious meaning behind his words.

“Yeah.” Alfred’s voice was lower than normal as he looked at the smaller blond, his mind running through the many ways Arthur might “help” him.

With slow steps and still smiling, Arthur placed himself in front of the American and lightly touched his chest. Their eyes met; his fingers traced muscle and bone down, down, down to the thin patch of pale blond hair peeking over the top of the model’s jeans.

“Artie…” He’d never gotten turned on so quickly in his life, not without being hungry first. But the way Arthur was looking at him, how soft and almost teasing his touches were, Alfred was two seconds away from grabbing him and kissing him.

“Hm?” Idly, Arthur toyed with the button on Alfred’s jeans—he leaned forward to place a kiss on suntanned skin, lingering slightly and enjoying the larger male’s scent.

“Artie.” It was more of a whine that time, the effort it was taking to hold himself back almost a struggle to maintain. He’d already been woken up painfully early and coerced into this photoshoot, and now Arthur was teasing him!

“Hush.” Arthur popped the button open as he kissed up Alfred’s neck and along the underside of his jaw. He could feel how tense the model was, even just leaning against him as little as he was. It made him proud to know that he had such an effect on the handsome American. A boring lover, he’d been called. Well, not anymore.

“Why aren’t you touching me?” he murmured against Alfred’s skin, and immediately felt hands on his hips, squeezing and rubbing as they moved around to his lower back. Pressure brought him closer to Alfred so that he was firmly pressed against the American, and he looked up to meet blue eyes. “Yes?”

“You’re impossible,” was Alfred’s only response before he ducked and kissed the Brit. Arthur’s instant reaction was to press closer, return the kiss with just a little more force than Alfred had started it with. He fumbled to undo the zipper of the blue-eyed blond’s jeans. Most of his attention was on the way Alfred’s mouth was moving against his own, so the zipper was more difficult to operate than it should have been. Still, he accomplished his goal after several attempts then set about tugging on the denim. Just as the jeans began to slip down away from Alfred’s hips, the American moved both hands down to cup Arthur’s backside. A soft gasp escaped the smaller blond and he yanked just hard enough that Alfred’s jeans fell around his ankles.

“Alfred…” Arthur was breathless, his hands now flat against the American’s chest. Alfred’s fingers were kneading and pressing, forcing the Englishman’s hips to move forward and up slightly in a grinding motion. If Arthur hadn’t been so busy snogging the taller blond, he’d have paid more attention to the fact that they were both half hard. He was already having a hard enough time keeping mostly still, since the hands on his rear and the muscular body he was being held against made him want to arch and grind and buck. He wanted Alfred to kiss him hard until he was light-headed from lack of oxygen.

But the American merely chuckled and broke away, breathing a little more heavily than normal, and smiled crookedly. “Sorry.”

Arthur frowned slightly, panting and confused. “For what?”

Pressing his forehead to the green-eyed blond’s, Alfred traded his grip on Arthur’s ass in favor of hugging him gently. “That I have to change when that isn’t even close to what I want.”

“What do you want?”

His lips twitched into a grin and Alfred put his mouth by the smaller male’s ear. “To kiss you ‘til your knees give out so I can put you up on this table and kiss you some more.” His voice was low and husky and promised so much more than just kissing, and Arthur felt his entire body quickly growing warmer.

“That sounds nice,” he eventually replied, and Alfred nodded.

“Yeah, it does.”

And even though he needed to change and they were keeping everyone waiting, neither blond moved. It was another several moments before Alfred loosened his arms and Arthur stepped back out of them to go back to his spot near the door. Silence overtook the dressing room as the taller male turned and stripped off his boxer briefs, keeping his back to the other in order to hide the fact that he was still partially hard, while Arthur waited and politely kept his gaze averted. In place of his own clothes, he donned what had been brought to him, then turned and smiled.

“How do I look?”

_Like a god._

Arthur didn’t say what he was thinking, that would have been embarrassing, but he knew it was true. Dressed like that, Alfred looked like a god. He was all golden skin and blue eyes, dazzling smile and sexy muscles. The “outfit” he’d been brought was little more than a pair of pants, a rather tight-fitting pair of swim shorts that left most of his thighs and hips exposed. Black with a red stripe down each side, they were a lovely contrast against the American’s skin.

Clearing his throat, Arthur forced a smile and dragged his mind away from the less appropriate thoughts of the shorts. “You look bloody amazing.”

“Thanks.” Crossing the room, Al slipped one arm around the golden blond’s narrow waist and pulled him close, kissing him lightly. “Gonna help me change after the shoot?” he asked softly when he pulled away, smiling at the dazed look on Arthur’s face.

“Yeah…”

A second kiss before he let the Brit go. “Then let’s get this over with.”

Still recovering, Arthur nodded and slipped his hand into the larger male’s. “Sure.”

Alfred smiled and opened the dressing room door, sticking his head out. “Ready for the stylists.” Within moments, three more people had entered the dressing room and directed Alfred into the chair in front of the vanity. The American sat perfectly still, allowing one to wipe down his skin, another to style his hair, and the third to lather foam onto his stomach then carefully scrape it away with a razor to remove the hair from his lower belly.

“Careful,” Alfred muttered, eyes darting down to watch what was being done to his body.

The stylist didn’t respond, merely continued with his work and wiped away the leftover foam before applying a layer of lotion to keep the skin from becoming agitated. Once the blades were no longer near his skin, Alfred relaxed again and quietly waited for them to finish.

“Done. Let’s go—you’ve got a lot to do.”

As he was rushed out of the chair and towards the door, Alfred made sure to reach back and grab Arthur’s sleeve and pull the Englishman along with him. Through clothing racks and small tables and other people, the group wound its way along until they reached the set where Alfred was meant to be doing his shoot.

“Go stand with Feliks and Toris,” the bespectacled model instructed, pointing so that Arthur knew where he meant, then he let the smaller blond go and stepped up onto the set.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” the photographer greeted him with a smile, and Alfred grinned.

“Morning.”

From his place beside Feliks, Arthur watched the photographer and model talk briefly before Alfred moved into the center of the set.

Smiling, Feliks leaned closer to the Brit and whispered, “You’re totally gonna love this. Al’s a natural.”

Arthur nodded, his gaze locked on the American. There was that familiar grin full of straight, perfectly white teeth as Alfred flexed and posed. He ran his hands through his hair, crossed his arms, turned his back to the cameras and cast a smirk over his shoulder. Watching him was fascinating. While Arthur had never been much interested in fashion or anything to do with the design and marketing of clothes, he thought he could watch Alfred do this for hours. Feliks had been right—the bespectacled blond was a natural, and Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off him.

“All right, handsome. You’re fantastic. Go get changed—I could photograph you all day.” Something in the photographer’s tone caught Arthur’s attention, and as Alfred stepped off the set and came towards him, he watched the photographer watch Alfred. The interest in the other man’s eyes put a bitter taste in the back of Arthur’s mouth and he found himself wanting to glare. Instead, he moved to meet Alfred and gave the American his most winsome smile.

“You’re great,” he complimented, slipping his arms around Alfred’s waist and reaching up to kiss the taller male’s cheek. “Completely great.”

His cheeks turning a light shade of pink, Alfred grinned somewhat embarrassedly and returned Arthur’s hug. “Thanks, Artie.”

“Come on, love, let’s get you changed into that second outfit.” As he stepped back again, Arthur made sure to give Alfred a flirtatious smile that had the model nodding and leading him back towards the dressing room.

The moment the door closed and the two were alone, Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred’s neck and pulled the taller blond down into a kiss. Surprised, Alfred didn’t start kissing back right away, though he only waited about a second before he was holding Arthur’s waist and pulling the Englishman close. It surprised him again to feel teeth on his lower lip, but he didn’t take the time to question it and quickly yanked Arthur against himself. The sudden movement made the Brit gasp, and Alfred seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Head tilting and arms tightening, he caught Arthur’s lip between his teeth for a moment before slipping his tongue past them.

“Al…” Arthur breathed once Alfred’s tongue retreated, hands trailing down the model’s chest and stomach until they encountered the fabric of the swim shorts.

“Yeah?”

Cheeks flushed, the Brit peered up at the American through his bangs and gently tugged at the cloth in his grip.

“Aw, c’mon, Artie,” Alfred mock whined, smiling, “don’t look at me like that.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed and he tugged harder, just barely making the shorts slip. “You’re supposed to change.”

“Yeah, but if you keep doing that, we both know changing isn’t what’s going to happen.”

Slowly, Arthur smiled. “Okay.”

One of Alfred’s eyebrows went up and he licked his lip before biting it and grinning. “Damn it, Arthur. Why’re you so tempting?”

That look made Arthur laugh and he shrugged playfully. “Not that tempting if you’re not giving in.”

“Oh,” the grin became a smirk and Alfred drew the Brit closer again, “trust me, if we were in a better place, I’d have you on your back by now.”

Feigning a shocked expression, Arthur pushed lightly against the American’s chest. “I never said I wanted to shag you!”

“No, but the rest of you is making it pretty obvious.” Still smirking, Alfred released the smaller male and headed towards the vanity, where his next outfit was waiting for him. “So what was that face you were making before I came off the set? You looked sorta pissed.”

What? He’d seen that?

“Oh, I, er, I was just lost in thought,” Arthur lied, and Alfred gave him a knowing look over his shoulder. Even though the American didn’t say anything, Arthur knew that he was being told to tell the truth and that there would be consequences if he didn’t. He didn’t know what those consequences might be, but if covering up his temporary lack of self control meant that Alfred was going to be mad at him, then he may as well tell the truth. “Fine. I was looking at that photographer.”

“With that face? Why? He’s nice.” Alfred was too busy changing into a new set of swim shorts—longer and looser than the first, and white with a blue geometric design on them—to see the way Arthur frowned.

“He was watching you.”

“He’s a photographer and I’m a model. Who else is he going to look at?”

“No, Alfred, he was _watching_ you.”

“What, like he’s interested in me?” His expression one of amused disbelief, he turned and looked at the shorter blond. “Artie, come on.”

“Don’t ‘come on’ me,” the Brit all but snapped, his temper rising because Alfred didn’t believe him and his opinion was being invalidated. “I know what I saw. He’s interested in you.”

Alfred lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, he’s interested in me. I believe you, now come here.” He smiled slightly and held his arms out. It was another couple of moments before Arthur gave in and moved close enough for Alfred to hug him, and even then he was sulking.

“I don’t like it,” he eventually muttered, resting his head against the American’s shoulder.

“Don’t like what?”

“That he looks at you like that.”

A chuckle rumbled in the taller blond’s chest, forcing a small smile to replace the pout on Arthur’s features.

“I didn’t even notice. I was too busy looking at you.”

That made Arthur feel significantly better, though he didn’t want to admit it just yet, so he remained silent as he rested against Alfred.

“Hey, really, I didn’t notice. I don’t care if he’s interested in me. It’s just like the waitress okay? I don’t care. You’re better,” Alfred tried to assure him, and Arthur nodded slowly.

“You’re still a git,” he growled softly, and Alfred laughed.

“Yeah, but I’m a handsome git, and you like me, otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten so jealous.”

“I never said I was jealous.”

Rolling his eyes, Alfred leaned back so he could see the Englishman’s face. “Arthur.”

“What?”

They stared at each other until Arthur sighed and looked down. “Fine, I was jealous. Happy?”

“Yeah, kinda.” His wide grin made Arthur chuckle and he pushed against Alfred’s chest just hard enough to free himself from the blue-eyed blond’s arms.

“You’re ridiculous. Now let’s get back to the set so you can finish letting that photographer ogle you. I’m hungry and you promised lunch.”

“I did, didn’t I.” Slinging his arm around Arthur’s shoulders, Alfred guided him out of the dressing room and kissed his cheek just as they reached the set, where he knew the photographer would see it. “We’ll go wherever you want, okay?”

Arthur glanced at the photographer and noticed that the man had busied himself with his camera, then smiled at Alfred. “Sounds perfect.”


	19. Chapter 19

“Hurry up, Al! We’re hungry!” The sound of Feliks knocking on the dressing room door and calling through from the other side made the room’s two occupants freeze in a sort of stunned horror. Slowly, Alfred’s arms unwound from Arthur’s waist, the Brit took his hands from ash blond hair, and they stepped away from each other.

“Just a minute, Fe,” Alfred called back, hoping his voice didn’t betray the fact that the fashion designer had just interrupted a rather fierce bout of kissing. They’d been at the set for nearly four hours now, and Alfred had changed into outfit after outfit, some more revealing than others, but that was normal. Feliks enjoyed dressing him a little too much for it to have been quick, and the photographer certainly hadn’t minded whenever Al had to show some skin. Throughout the day, Arthur’s comment about the man being interested in Alfred had become painfully obvious, to the point where it was borderline annoying. Alfred didn’t think he’d ever been called “gorgeous” so often in such a short amount of time in his existence. If he never had to pose for that photographer again, he’d be perfectly fine with it.

So it had been a relief when he’d stepped off the set for the last time and Feliks had told him they were done. He’d almost been so distracted by the idea of putting his own clothes on again as to forget that Arthur was with him, though the green-eyed blond had been quick to recapture his attention. They’d ended up making out every time Al had to change, so their lips were starting to get tired, but that didn’t stop them. As soon as they’d gotten into the dressing room, Arthur had started stripping him and kissing the skin he exposed along the way. It was probably one of the sexiest things Al had ever experienced, and he hadn’t waited very long before grabbing Arthur and kissing him like his life depended on it. And seeing as they couldn’t actually screw in this tiny makeshift dressing room—and the fact that he didn’t want to risk pushing too fast and pissing Arthur off—kissing was the best they had. The amount of sexual frustration that had built up in there was just about enough to make the incubus go mad. And now Feliks had interrupted their longest kiss yet.

If he hadn’t been so close to being mortified that they would be discovered, Alfred would have been annoyed as hell. As it was, he kept his gaze lowered and his mouth shut as he changed back into the clothes he’d picked out for himself that morning. Plain jeans and a t-shirt. Perfect. So comfortable. Of course, he would get to keep everything he’d modeled in today, even though he would probably never wear any of it again. Unless Arthur wanted him to. The Brit had definitely liked a few of his outfits more than the others, as had been evident in how quickly they’d hurried back to the dressing room between sets. So he might keep those for…special occasions.

“Are you done yet?” Feliks’ tone was impatient from outside the dressing room, and Alfred and Arthur exchanged a glance before moving towards the door, both fully dressed once more. Alfred pulled the door open and gave his boss an exasperated look, his other hand reaching back to hold onto Arthur’s fingers. “Yes. Let’s get out of here.”

“Good!” Holding hands with Toris and smiling, Feliks led the way back through people and sets and costumes until the group somehow found their way outside into the fresh air. If London air could be called fresh, at least. But it was still cool and pleasant after the heat and stuffiness of the photoset. Having so many people crammed in there moving around so much had overpowered whatever air conditioning they were supposed to enjoy, and even though it was still raining a little, the four smiled as they emerged into a grey-skied late morning.

“Where should we go to eat?” Toris asked his skipping lover, smiling at the blond’s antics.

“Don’t care! Oh, there’s some totally great restaurants by the river!” He spun, ponytail bouncing, and smiled at his three companions. “Or Arthur should pick! Since he, like, knows his way around way better than us!”

Three pairs of eyes looked at him and Arthur found himself suddenly wishing he was invisible. Oh, hell. Why did they all have to look at him so expectantly? He didn’t go out very often—his knowledge of local restaurants wasn’t nearly as thorough as Feliks seemed to think it was. This wasn’t even his neighborhood. He knew next to nothing about the shops here.

“I, er, actually don’t know,” he admitted quietly, head lowering in something akin to shame. “I don’t come to this part of the city very often.”

“Awww, well, that’s all right. We’ll figure it out, right, Al?” The designer was almost smirking as he looked at the tallest member of the group, and Alfred gave him a suspicious glare before smoothing out his expression.

“Yeah. We’ll find somewhere nice to eat.” Comfortingly, he slipped his arm around Arthur’s shoulders and gently pulled the Brit close, rubbing his upper arm a little as he grinned down at him. The move earned a smile from Arthur after a couple of moments, and then the group continued towards the car in a decidedly light-hearted mood.

Feliks barely glanced at his mirrors once he was in the driver’s seat and backing out of their parking space. “Tor, use your smart phone and find out where the nearest restaurants are.” Immediately, the brunet did as he was asked, and a few seconds later was giving Feliks directions.

“So did you have fun? You’re glad you came?” In the backseat with Arthur comfortably settled into his side, Alfred couldn’t help but make sure his companion had actually enjoyed being on the set.

“I did. Watching you was great.” Arthur smiled up at the taller blond, a little smug. “And seeing the photographer lose hope was even better.”

With a laugh, Alfred squeezed the Brit’s shoulders a little then ruffled his hair. “I told you I wasn’t interested in him.”

“I know. It was just nice to see you prove it.”

“Mm. Tell you what.” Sliding down on the seat so Arthur was lying on him more than leaning, Al brushed golden bangs back from green eyes then kissed the smaller male’s temple. “Let me call you my boyfriend, and I’ll prove it to you as many times as you want.”

Immediately, Arthur felt his face grow warm. Boyfriend? He hadn’t thought of that. This was their— _would be_ their third date, and the first two had been perfect. Even though Arthur had more than likely made a complete arse of himself on the second one, Alfred had been perfect. Having the American as his official _boyfriend,_ well, what else could he do after the way he’d been acting this morning? They might as well skip the boyfriend stage and move straight onto being lovers!

“I think I’d like that,” the Englishman replied slowly, looking up to meet Al’s gaze and smiling crookedly.

“So would I.” Alfred returned the smile before he kissed the other blond, just a soft brush of his lips against Arthur’s, but it was nice and he enjoyed those few seconds of contact. When he pulled away, he found green eyes looking up at him and pale cheeks flushed a light pink, Arthur’s hands folded over his stomach and fidgeting in a nervous sort of way. “What?” the American asked, running his hand through the other’s hair, and Arthur shrugged. 

“I haven’t had a boyfriend in a long time,” the shorter blond admitted quietly, “or a girlfriend. I haven’t dated anyone in a while.”

“I see.” Still smiling, Alfred took one of Arthur’s light-skinned hands into his own and began playing with his fingers idly. “Well, I can fix that, you know.”

“I know.”

Silence overtook the car as the two in the backseat just looked at each other, and Feliks glanced at them in the rearview mirror.

“We’re, like, almost there,” he informed his passengers, and Arthur reluctantly sat up.

Lying on Alfred was about as comfortable as anyone could be, and sitting upright seemed like so much work in comparison. But Alfred kept hold of his hand as the car slowed, turned a corner, and was parked by the blond in the driver’s seat, so he supposed he could deal with it. Besides, they were about to get food, and all the effort he’d put into…helping Alfred change, had really worked up his appetite.

All moving at the same time, the four got out of the car and gently shut the doors so as not to slam them unnecessarily.

“This place has a four-star rating.” Toris clicked a couple things on his phone before tucking the device away into a pocket and occupying his hand with Feliks’ instead. Their fingers intertwined immediately and Feliks stood close to the brunet, smiling and happy as they walked. There was obviously a very strong bond between them, and Arthur wondered how long they’d been together. Probably quite a few years.

_Would it ever be like that with Alfred?_

He couldn’t help but wonder about it as he walked beside the American, following the other two along the sidewalk to the restaurant’s front doors. They were boyfriends now, after all. Holding hands would be basic—they were already doing that, anyway—and of course they’d kissed plenty of times, but the touching was still at a minimum and there was just something about the way Feliks and Toris moved that didn’t seem quite normal. It was like they were drawn towards each other by gravity, like it would be impossible to separate them even though their hands only held onto each other loosely. There was just something _there_ that Arthur couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He was still trying to figure it out when they walked into the restaurant, but he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind for later as the group approached the front counter where a greeter stood smiling. It wasn’t a place he’d been to before, but it looked clean and there were a decent number of people there already. The smells of various foods drifted around, mingling with the chatter and sounds of silverware clinking against dishes. A typical restaurant atmosphere, and they’d made it before the lunchtime rush.

“Table for four!” Feliks was smiling at the greeter, a gawky, scrawny, bespectacled teenager with freckles dusted over his cheeks and dark, curly hair. Buck teeth protruded just slightly over his lower lip. He smiled, revealing braces, and selected four menus from his stand.

“Right thith way, pleathe.” His teeth affected his speech, giving him a very slight lisp. They followed his bony frame through the restaurant to a booth near the windows where they could look out and see the world moving outside. He was polite as he handed out the menus, then took a small notepad from the pocket of his apron. “Can I get you anything to drink, thirth?”

“I’ll have a strawberry margarita.” Feliks hadn’t even bothered to look at his menu before he said it, then he looked at Toris. “Is that all right?”

The brunet smiled and nodded. “I’ll drive us back.” He was rewarded with a kiss to his cheek from the blond beside him, which then turned into Feliks snuggling into Toris’ side and hugging him around his middle. With his arm around his cuddly companion’s shoulders, the other male looked up at the teenager. “Just a water for me, please.”

“Same.” Alfred looked at Arthur to find the Brit looking over the drink section of the menu.

“I’ll have a cup of Earl Grey, thank you.”

The teen nodded and quickly wrote down the four drinks on his notepad before flashing a crooked smile. “I’ll have thothe right out for you.” He left to give them time to look over the menus and decide what they wanted to order for their meals, but instead of picking up his menu, Feliks watched the boy walk away.

“He’s kinda cute. Like, in a dorky way,” the designer commented off-handedly.

Toris nodded in agreement, glancing after the teen before consulting his menu, and Alfred didn’t say anything—he didn’t have much of an opinion on their waiter, other than that he was friendly. But Arthur was looking at Feliks as if he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard that right.

“I’m sorry. What?” he asked, brow furrowed and one thick eyebrow held just slightly higher than the other.

Unruffled, Feliks sat up straighter in his spot and opened his menu, looking over the top of it to see the confused way Arthur was looking at him. “What? He is.”

“He’s cute?”

“Yeah. You don’t think so? I think he’ll be totally hot once he grows up a little. But he’s a cute dork for now.” Seeming not to notice the growing concern with which Arthur was staring, Feliks tucked a loose bit of hair behind his ear and scanned the menu he was holding. “Ooh, they have a section of really spicy foods.”

Arthur opened his mouth to say something else but Alfred took his hand under the table before he could get the words out, drawing the Brit’s attention.

“Don’t worry about it,” the blue-eyed blond murmured, thumb stroking the back of Arthur’s hand. “He looks at everyone like he’s calculating if they’d make a good model or not. That’s all he meant.”

“Oh.” Right. Feliks was a fashion designer. Of course he’d notice the way other people looked and dressed and moved. Of course. But that meant he’d probably made some judgment about Arthur and realizing that made the Englishman suddenly nervous. What if he hadn’t been lucky enough to receive a positive opinion from the somewhat flamboyant man sitting across from him? What if they dropped him off at his apartment and Feliks started commenting about his lack of style or his untamed eyebrows or some other thing as soon as he was out of earshot? What if—

“Hey.”

Once again, Alfred’s voice drew Arthur out of his thoughts, and he met the other male’s gaze with obvious worry. Alfred smiled and squeezed his hand gently.

“He thinks you’re adorable.”

“What? How do you know?” Really? Feliks actually thought he was adorable? That was even better than being a cute dork, like their waiter apparently was.

“Because he told me. And he’s right—you’re pretty damn adorable.” Leaning closer, Al put his mouth by the Brit’s ear and whispered, “But you’re handsome, too, and you were fuckin’ sexy earlier.” As he drew away, he watched the red that was coming into Arthur’s cheeks, ears, and neck. Green eyes lowered in embarrassment and teeth dug into a lower lip—yeah, Arthur was damn adorable. And he was Alfred’s boyfriend. Hell yeah.

“So, Arthur,” both blonds were quick to draw away from each other and face the two sitting across the booth; Feliks and Toris were both smiling knowingly, “now that we finally get to meet you,” the designer flashed his model a pointed look that was only about half joking, “tell us about yourself.”

“Oh, er, like what?” Still flustered about what Alfred had whispered, Arthur shifted in place and rested his free hand in his lap. He really hoped it wasn’t obvious what sort of affect the bespectacled blond had just had on him. Snogging in the dressing room had left him antsy and the way Alfred had spoken just now only made it worse. If he didn’t get a glass of water or something soon, he was going to have a problem, especially considering Alfred was still holding onto his hand under the table and it felt like the American’s palm and fingertips were growing warmer with every passing second. The warmth seeped into Arthur and travelled up his arm—he had the irrational thought that it was going to go straight to his stomach and then down to where he definitely didn’t want it to be. It made him nervous but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from the model’s touch.

“Where do you work? What are your hobbies? Al’s told us, like, a ton about you, but we want to hear it from you, too.” The way Feliks was smiling at him didn’t make Arthur feel any better. He was definitely being obvious about his situation. Brilliant.

“I work at a bank on Canary Wharf, approving loans and advising some of the branch managers on deals and whatnot. It’s all rather boring.” Yes, yes, talking about work would calm him down. Work was plain and easy and boring and bloody hell his entire arm was as warm as Alfred’s hand and it was starting to creep through his shoulder into his chest.

Leaning forward, Feliks laid his arms on the table and put his weight on his elbows, head tilting slightly. “Canary Wharf’s near your apartment, right?”

“Yes, I usually walk to work when the weather permits.” Okay, he had to let go of Alfred’s hand. He had to. This was ridiculous. The man wasn’t even doing anything to him and he was losing control of himself. He was obviously incapable of so much as touching the other blond without his body betraying him. Letting go was the only option, only his arm wasn’t obeying him.

_Let go. Just let go. You git just let go of his hand!_

The most he managed to do was twitch his fingers ever so slightly. Alfred probably hadn’t even felt it, and Arthur was starting to panic a little. The warmth was down into his stomach and spreading rapidly. He couldn’t move his arm but it didn’t feel like anything was stopping him, just like his body didn’t want to distance itself from the source of that nice warm feeling. And it was nice, just not now, not in public, not around Alfred’s boss!

“Ooh, that’s nice. Your neighborhood is super cute. We passed a park, didn’t we, Tor?” The blond fashion designer turned his head far enough to look at Toris, who nodded.

“We did. It looked like a nice place to go for a walk.”

“Yeah! Do you go for walks there, Arthur?”

Oh god oh god oh god oh god. It was in his hips. He was going to squirm or make a sound or some other embarrassing thing and then they would all think there was something wrong with him! Desperate to stay calm and not betray what was happening to him, Arthur nodded tersely and forced a small smile. “It’s lovely.” His voice sounded strained but the blond and brunet across the booth didn’t react to it. Alfred, on the other hand, was looking at him with more than a little concern.

“Arthur, are you all right?” he asked, turning and lifting his free hand to cup the Englishman’s cheek and look into his eyes. Immediately, warmth poured into Arthur’s cheek and he couldn’t help it anymore. He was so hot just sitting there and Alfred was touching him and hellfire he was going to lose his mind! The quietest little mewl escaped him as he looked back at the blue-eyed model, slipping down just slightly on the cushioned bench because he couldn’t bring himself to stay sitting upright. “Arthur?” Alfred was outright frowning now and put both hands on the Brit’s shoulders to help him sit up again. As soon as the skin-to-skin contact was gone, it felt like a cold wind hit him and every muscle in Arthur’s body went taut.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled, getting up as quickly as he could and hurrying towards the lavatory. The door opened easily and he was relieved to find that it was a single-stall setup, so he locked the door before leaning back against it and letting out slow breath. That had been bloody close. Any longer and he was sure he’d have started writhing in his seat. Just thinking about it was shameful. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

His quiet words didn’t echo back to him, but he didn’t need to hear them again to know that something was going on around here. That had never happened to him before, not with Alfred or anyone else. What sort of heat spread through a man’s body like that? Made him lose control of his limbs and left him helpless as his body turned traitor? It should have been impossible, yet there he was, standing in the men’s lavatory with his entire body tingling with the heat that had survived that weird coldness once Alfred stopped touching his skin.

_Yes, Arthur, brilliant. Snog him in his dressing room to the point you might as well be lovers, then agree to be his boyfriend, now get bloody hard for no good reason! He _whispered_ to you, and not in a way that would do anything more than make a man blush. You blushed and that should have been enough!_

Frustration made the Brit rub his face and grip his hair. He couldn’t go back out there like this, not with such a noticeable bulge in his trousers, especially since _there was no bloody reason for him to be aroused._

Arthur sighed heavily and shrugged away from the door. There was no help for it. Calming down would take too long. He was just going to have relieve himself, but he hated the thought of jerking off in a public rest room, let alone one in a restaurant, and with three people wondering why he’d run off so suddenly! If they suspected…! He wouldn’t be able to stand the embarrassment. It was just going to have to be a quick thing so he could get back as soon as possible, apologize for his abrupt departure, and hope to high heaven that it didn’t happen again.

“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered as he pushed away from the door and headed for the toilet, unzipping his trousers while he walked. Thankfully, the lavatory was clean and didn’t smell like anything foul—the staff here must do a fantastic job of maintaining a customer-friendly atmosphere. Still, he was hesitant to take a long piece of the toilet paper and bunch it up in his hand. This was ridiculous. He hadn’t done anything nearly this lewd in years.

_That American is having much too large of an impact on my life._

No more stalling. Alfred and Feliks and Toris were waiting and they hadn’t ordered their food yet so he needed to get back before that freckled teen came around to see what they wanted to eat.

_All right, Arthur. You can do this. Just close your eyes and do it._

It was embarrassingly easy to picture something to help him get through this. Not that he really needed to think of anything. His body was eager enough that even the first touch of his tissue-covered hand made him bite his lip. No sounds. He was in a restaurant’s lavatory. No one outside could hear this. But even so, he let his imagination take over. If he was going to do this, he was going to enjoy it, if just for a few minutes. So he thought of Alfred.

Maddening, ruddy git Alfred. Thought of his smile, the way his eyes shone behind his glasses and how he pushed his hair back out of his eyes for the photoshoot that morning. He thought of all those outfits, especially the sexier ones, and the way Alfred had held onto him every time they were alone together.

_The model’s hands were all over him, running through his hair, cupping his face, stroking his back and holding his hips. They were everywhere but where Arthur really wanted them to be, and his frustration made him bite Alfred’s lip in the middle of their kissing._

_Alfred chuckled, his hands resting on Arthur’s waist, fingertips rubbing teasingly. “Something the matter?”_

“You’re bloody impossible.”

_His response made a smirk spread over the model’s features, making his handsome face just that much sexier. “Yeah, that’s why you’re whining and pouting at me, which is too cute to make me stop.”_

Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes. “And if I stop kissing you? What then?”

_“I don’t think you could stop. You like it too much.”_

“Cocky git.” Arthur was breathless, his eyes screwed shut tight and mouth open just slightly. Since the Alfred in his head had yet to _do_ anything, he wasn’t doing anything more than very gentle strokes. Just enough to keep him on that edge of letting go of his self-restraint, and to heighten his frustration with the imaginary Alfred.

_“You wouldn’t like me if I didn’t tease you a little.” Slowly, one of the model’s hands slid down to cup Arthur’s rear, drawing his hips forward to press against Alfred’s. “And I know you like me a lot.”_

“Obviously.” He was too distracted by the hard lump he could feel behind Alfred’s jeans to say anything more, especially considering he had one to match.

_Alfred didn’t reply to that, merely tilted his head and started leaving kisses on the Englishman’s neck. That, combined with the hand rubbing his arse, had Arthur wrapping his arms around the taller male’s neck and grinding against him shamelessly._

_“Stop teasing me…”_

_“But you like it.”_

“We don’t have time!”

_The hand squeezed and Arthur whined softly. “I’m not in a hurry.”_

“Alfred, _please._ ”

_“Only cause you asked so nicely.” In the next moment, Alfred had both hands firmly planted on the smaller blond’s backside and was biting down on Arthur’s neck. His grip tightened, fingers kneading, and he made Arthur move his hips forward and up in a grinding motion that dragged a moan from the Briton._

“Al…”

_“Louder.”_

“N-no…can’t…someone’ll hear…”

_“I don’t care. I want to hear you.”_

Arthur shook his head in denial of the imaginary model’s command. No way was he going to listen to that and be found doing something this embarrassing. It wasn’t easy, though. The things the American in his head was doing to him—the hickey being left on his neck, the hands on his arse and the hips grinding against his own—made him want to pant and moan and whine until he finally got the relief he now desperately needed. And the way he was touching himself matched what was in his thoughts, his hand now pumping firm and steady, the pace quickening because he needed to get his release as soon as possible.

_“Come on, Artie. Just one little scream. Just say my name. Call for me. It’d be so sexy.”_

“Alfred…nng…” Biting his lip was the only thing that kept him saying it loudly enough for it to echo. Fuck, he was getting close. Even though he was fully clothed in his imagination, and Alfred was only shirtless, it was enough to make him widen his stance and hold onto the railing in the wall for support as he tried to breathe through the pleasure coursing in his veins. That heat was back full force even without Alfred really there touching him. He wouldn’t have been able to see even if he could have opened his eyes.

_“You make such a cute face when you’re about to cum,” Alfred whispered huskily into his ear, his breath caressing Arthur’s skin better than any touch could. Thinking the American would say that to him, in that voice, made a shudder run down the Brit’s spine and he bucked one last time as the world disappeared._

“Al…!”

Fuck.

_Breathe._

Leaning forward, Arthur let his hand hang at his side as his weight rested against the wall. First things first, he needed to catch his breath. Then he would worry about making sure his face wasn’t too red, and he’d clean himself up. When he left that bathroom, he meant to be completely calm and composed.

It was several moments before the Brit managed to straighten and open his eyes. Okay, he hadn’t made a mess. The tissues had done their job, and it was a simple matter of a few quick wipes before he threw the toilet paper into the bowl and flushed away the evidence of what he’d just done. His pants were fixed and trousers zipped and buttoned, clothes straightened as they should be. He was still focusing on getting his breathing back to normal as he washed his hands, and had almost gotten it when he finished that task and checked his reflection. His cheeks were slightly flushed but it wasn’t too noticeable, and a quick finger-comb fixed his hair. Clothes looked good. He was ready.

_Okay. Act like nothing happened. You’re fine. Go have lunch._

Another few steadying breaths as he unlocked the door, and then Arthur was back out in the restaurant. It was more crowded that it had been when he went in there, and he wondered just how much time had passed, but he fixed a smile in place as he slid back into the booth.

“You okay?” Alfred was still concerned, peering over the tops of his glasses at Arthur in an endearing way.

“Never better.”

Even though the blue-eyed blond didn’t look convinced, he nodded and turned to face forward again, his hands safely folded on top of the table.

“We told the waiter to come back to take our orders since you were gone,” Toris informed him, and Arthur nodded.

“Thank you.” If he could keep it together for the rest of lunch, he would be fine. He was fine. He could do this.

Hopefully.


	20. Chapter 20

“It was nice to meet you, Arthur!” Feliks called from the front passenger seat, waving and smiling.

“Thank you for inviting me,” the Brit replied in a quieter tone, standing on his front steps with Alfred a couple steps below him.

Alfred pushed his glasses back up his nose, grinning as usual. “Anytime.” Moving up a step, he loosely wrapped his arms around the smaller blond’s waist and pulled Arthur just far enough forward that he could kiss him. The steps meant that Arthur was taller for the moment, and he rather liked being the one to lean down for the kiss rather than reaching up.

Despite the two watching from the car, Alfred tightened his arms and tilted his head, invading Arthur’s mouth then drawing away again before the green-eyed male could properly respond.

“Git,” Arthur muttered, hiding his quickly reddening face in the model’s shoulder as Alfred laughed and hugged him.

“I’d say sorry, but I’m not.”

“I know.”

Still pink in the face, Arthur drew back and met the other blond’s eyes for a moment. He smiled shyly as Alfred reached up to kiss his forehead and pushed against the American playfully. “All right, all right. Get going before your boss decides to leave without you.”

“Aw, Fe wouldn’t do that. He wants to talk to me about you too much.”

Arthur rolled his eyes even though knowing the fashion designer wanted to talk about him made him feel a bit on the flustered side of things. “Well, we wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

“No.” Alfred stole another kiss then quickly stepped back off the steps before Arthur could retaliate. “We wouldn’t.” He winked cheekily before turning and walking to the car, casting a smile over his shoulder along with a wave. “See ya, Artie.”

“Bye.”

Then Alfred was in the car with Feliks and Toris and the three were off down the street, leaving Arthur to watch from his front stoop until the car vanished around the corner.

It wasn’t quiet in the car, but Alfred chose not to join in on the chatter of the other two. He was too busy thinking about the fact that Arthur was actually his boyfriend now. He had a real claim on the Brit, one that would matter even when he left at the end of summer. A long-distance relationship would be hard, sure, but he would manage. Being Arthur’s boyfriend would be worth it.

_Wait, shit. How am I gonna eat without cheating on him?_

Asking to be boyfriends had been a spur of the moment decision, pure reaction to Arthur’s comment about the photographer losing hope. He hadn’t thought it through before saying it. Arthur was his boyfriend now and he couldn’t be happier, but at the same time, the weight of what he’d just done threatened to overwhelm him.

He had a human boyfriend who didn’t know what he was, and they hadn’t gone far enough yet for Alfred to assume the Brit would be any sort of food source. Besides, he’d already decided he didn’t want to use Arthur for food. So what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just cheat on Arthur, but he couldn’t starve, either. If he didn’t feed, he would go crazy and then….no, he didn’t want to think about that. It was a long time ago. He wasn’t going to do it again.

Too busy thinking about his predicament to really notice what was going on around him, Alfred left the car and followed his two companions up through the hotel to their suite. It wasn’t until the door closed behind him and the lights were flicked on that he realized they were back, and even then he wasn’t all there.

“Alfred.”

“What?” he responded absently, not sure if it was Toris or Feliks who had said his name and not really able to bring himself to care.

“Oi, Incubutt, come sit down.”

Okay, that was Feliks, which meant Toris was the one who said his name. Not that it mattered. And he didn’t much feel like sitting down, but he did look up enough to see that Feliks was looking at him with both eyebrows raised and his arms crossed.

“What?” the American said again, now actually paying attention.

“Really, Alfred? You had to turn him on in the restaurant?”

In the restaurant?

Confused, Alfred frowned. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything to him in the restaurant.”

“Oh, so he got all flushed and fidgety for some reason other than that an incubus was touching him?”

“I didn’t do anything to him!” 

“Alfred,” Toris spoke more calmly than the other two males had done, though that was nothing unusual.

“I didn’t,” the incubus said again, adamant as he moved farther into the hotel suite and dropped onto one of the luxurious couches. He hadn’t done anything to Arthur. The Brit could feel it when he pressed heat into him, so why would he risk doing it again? And in a restaurant, no less? That would just be mean and was the last thing he wanted to do to the man he had just become the boyfriend of. “Why would I? We were there to have lunch. And even if we hadn’t been, I wouldn’t do that to Arthur. I’m not going to use any underhanded tricks to get him to like me.”

First Feliks sat on one side of the bespectacled blond, then Toris settled on the other. It was their usual arrangement, though this time there was no cuddling or kisses or suggestive comments. Instead, the two kept a respective distance and gave Alfred time to think about what he wanted to say next.

“You don’t need to use any underhanded tricks for people to like you, Al,” Toris comforted him, laying a gentle hand on the larger male’s shoulder. “I don’t think you did it on purpose, but something happened to Arthur.”

“It really looked like you were doing the heat thing,” Feliks added. “That’s why we didn’t say anything about it in the restaurant. We thought you were doing something.”

Alfred shook his head. “I wasn’t. Not on purpose.”

“Could you have done it on accident?” the brunet asked, and Alfred shook his head again before he paused then shrugged.

“Maybe. I dunno. It’s never happened before.”

“No one’s ever been able to resist you before, though,” Feliks pointed out, “and Arthur did.”

“Yeah.”

Hell, this situation was already complicated enough but now Arthur was affecting his incubus powers? Who was this guy?

Toris shifted his weight on the couch, apparently lost in thought. “Do you think your father is right? That Arthur’s your mate and that’s why he reacts to you differently from everyone else?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe.” Frustrated now, Alfred ran his hands through his hair and leaned back against the couch, sighing. “Maybe I should call him again and see what he thinks. He should know plenty about incubi and maybe he’ll have some real advice this time.” His last call to his so-called father hadn’t been as successful as Alfred had hoped, but he was confused and frustrated enough that he was willing to give it another try. Especially if it would help him with Arthur in some way.

“Then call him.” His tone matter-of-fact, Feliks tightened his ponytail then smoothed out his clothes. “He can’t be totally useless, can he?”

“He could be.” Alfred was a little grudging as he said it. Yes, the other mythical had helped to turn him into what he was, but his father was sometimes useless at best. Sometimes he was frustrating and aggravating and there were times when Alfred would really have liked to punch him in the mouth. But he couldn’t completely blame him, so he kept his temper in check. His current existence was partially his own fault, after all.

Smiling encouragingly, Toris squeezed his shoulder a little before standing. He gestured for Feliks to stand as well then took the blond nymph’s hand into his own. “Call him. We’ll give you some privacy.” And with that, he led his mate into their room and shut the door.

Alfred had the feeling that their departure was only partially to give him peace and quiet for the call to his father. He could have just gone into his own room, after all, so his friends were probably in need of a little quality bonding time. It didn’t really matter, though, just as long as they didn’t try to drag him into it. He didn’t want to cheat on his new boyfriend less than two hours after asking him, after all.

Even though he was now alone in the living room of the hotel suite, Alfred made no move to fetch his phone in order to call his father. What if the older mythical had no useful advice? What if he just said the exact same thing as last time? Talking to him might be completely pointless, but…it would be better than nothing.

Sighing and not entirely willing to do this, Alfred got up and cast his gaze around the suite. Where had he left his phone? He’d called Arthur with it that morning. Had he taken it in the car with them? Uh…he couldn’t remember. All he knew was that he hadn’t used it since he’d called Arthur about five hours before.

_Crap._

It had to be around here somewhere.

“Fe!”

A rather loud thump sounded in the bedroom, followed by a sound of pain and someone—probably Toris—laughing.

“Shut up,” Feliks’ voice sounded, muted by the wall and surly, then louder, “what do you want, Al?”

Grinning despite himself because he’d obviously just interrupted something, Alfred clasped his hands behind his head and looked at the ceiling. “Call my phone for me. I can’t find it.” He could hear Feliks and Toris talking on the other side of the wall, and a few moments later a loud buzzing sound filled the suite.

Alfred spun and followed the noise into the kitchen, quickly spotting his phone on the counter near the sink where he’d probably left it that morning after rinsing his breakfast dishes. “Found it! Thanks!”

The buzzing stopped just before he picked the device up, and his screen was lit to display he had a missed call from the nymph in the other room. Alfred hit the End option to go back to the home screen then tapped in the number he had memorized but didn’t really care to know. It always sort of amazed him that his old-ass father figure was so enthusiastic about technology. He could have been in contact with him on social media websites if he’d wanted to be. Which he very definitely didn’t.

“Two calls in a week,” the bespectacled blond muttered as he put the phone to his ear and listened to it ring. “He’s going to think I’m starting to like him.”

For a few moments, he stood in the kitchen in silence except for the quiet hum of the fridge and the ringing coming through the phone. Five rings. Six. Seven. Was he really going to have to leave a voicemail? Seriously? Since when did he not answer his phone?

_“’ello?”_

There was that annoying voice.

“It’s me.”

_“Alfred! Anozher call already? You’re spoiling me.”_

Alfred could practically see the stupid, playful way the older mythical was probably smiling as he said it, and he rolled his eyes so hard it strained the muscles a little. “Yeah. So, you remember that guy I was telling you about the other day?”

 _“Arzhur? Oui, of course I remember ‘im. Are you ‘aving trouble wooing ‘im?”_ The voice coming through the phone was teasing and patronizing and made Alfred grind his teeth.

“No, but I think he’s messing with my incubus powers or something. It’s weird.”

_“Messing wizh your powers? ‘ow so?”_

“Well, first he wasn’t at all interested in me, which is weird by itself, but earlier today we were at lunch with Fe and Tor and he started turning red and shifting in his seat. He seemed really uncomfortable and suddenly left to go to the bathroom. He said he was fine when he got back and he wouldn’t talk about it at all. When we got back to the hotel, the guys said they thought I was turning him on on purpose, but I wasn’t.”

_“Turning ‘im on?”_

“Yeah. You know how one of the things incubi can do is touch someone and make them feel really warm so they’re more sensitive? Arousal with just a touch or whatever? Fe thought I was doing that to Arthur while we were in the restaurant.”

_“Were you?”_

Immediately, Alfred’s temper rose. Why did everyone think he was that big of an ass?! “No! Of course not! Why the hell would I? I’m not some sleazy jerk, you know!”

_“I know, I know, Alfred, I just wanted to make sure.”_

Still upset and frustrated and confused, the American looked around the kitchen for a moment before picking one of the chairs around the table and sitting on it a little more forcefully than he needed to. His elbows were braced on the tabletop and he rested his face in one hand, the other still holding the phone to his ear.

“Right. Anyway, I was hoping you might be able to tell me what the hell’s going on. Fe and Tor were pretty convinced I was doing it on purpose, and I was holding his hand so I could have if I’d wanted to, but I wasn’t. I mean, it’s one of my powers. I’m supposed to be able to control it, but Arthur’s been an exception the whole time, so…”

 _“Like I told you last time you called, Alfred, I zhink zhis Arzhur is your mate. You’re an incubus. Zhese zhings don’t just ‘appen to people like you. I’ve never ‘eard of zhis before et I don’t zhink anyone else ‘as, eizher. I wish I could be more ‘elpful to you, but zhere’s just not enough information on incubi et zheir mates to know exactly what’s ‘appening. I’m sorry.”_ Surprisingly, he sounded genuinely sorry that he couldn’t give Alfred a more definite answer, and that helped calm the blue-eyed blond tremendously.

“Yeah, I know.” Sighing, he pushed his glasses up on top of his head and rubbed his eyes until purple started showing up over the blackness of his eyelids. What was he going to do? Either Arthur was his mate or he wasn’t, and there was no way to know because, well, incubi didn’t do this. They ate and they moved on. Alfred had been doing it for a couple hundred years now and suddenly some green-eyed Englishman had caught him off-guard and kept him on his toes for days. This wasn’t normal for someone like him. “Thanks anyway. I’ll, uh, keep you posted.”

He didn’t know why he said it. It just felt like the right thing to do. His father was trying to help him and was obviously concerned, so why not let him know if anything changed?

_“Merci, Alfred, et good luck wizh ‘im.”_

“Thanks.”

The line disconnected and Alfred slowly set the phone on the table. Well, it hadn’t been as useless as he’d thought it would be. And his father had really tried to help. Like the older mythical had said, though, there just wasn’t very much to go on. Incubi weren’t exactly known for their ability to commit to a relationship.

Still, what if Arthur really was his mate? Would the Brit know? It wasn’t something that happened with humans, not really. Having a mate was a bond between mythicals, and, well, that clearly wasn’t the case. Arthur was human, so even if he was Alfred’s mate, they wouldn’t be able to tell for sure. He’d already talked to Feliks and Toris about it, and the possibility that if Arthur became a mythical then they’d know for sure why he affected Alfred so differently from everyone else.

“But I don’t want to do that to him,” Alfred muttered, putting both hands over his face and leaning forward on his elbows. There were only a few ways for a human to become a mythical and he didn’t want Arthur to have to suffer through any of them.

_So protective after three dates, huh, Al? What’re you gonna do? You’ll have to cheat on him to survive and it’ll tear you apart. Boyfriends. Yeah._

Alfred groaned and slumped forward onto the table, his face buried in his arms.

God, this was all so screwed up. He was an incubus staying in England for the summer and just happened to meet some random guy in a pub who just happened to be immune to his charms. Then he went on two dates with that man, kissed him multiple times, almost slept with him but didn’t, made out with him multiple times, and then apparently accidentally used one of his incubus powers on him in a restaurant. Oh, and he’d better not forget the part where Arthur was his boyfriend now. That was an important detail to keep in mind. So he was fucked no matter what he did. Cheat or starve. Or try to seduce Arthur as quickly as possible.

No, no, that’d make him look like an asshole. Ask him to be boyfriends then immediately try to have sex with him? Yeah, the perfect plan to prove he was nothing but a jerk looking for a good time and an easy lay just like Arthur had thought he was when they met. Excellent. He’d been limiting himself to Feliks and Toris to avoid being caught with someone else and so far that was working, but Alfred didn’t know if he could bring himself to keep doing it. He would get hungry, sure, and it would suck, but he was going to have to learn to go without if he wanted things to work with Arthur.

_I’ll just…go on a diet._

It was a stupid idea and he knew that, but what else could he do? If he told Arthur what he was, the Brit would think he was insane. Or would run screaming in the other direction, maybe call the police. That wasn’t something Alfred was willing to go through. Maybe he shouldn’t try to make any decisions just yet. After all, Arthur had been his boyfriend for barely two hours, and he wasn’t hungry, so he didn’t have to choose right away. What was the phrase? He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

_This is going to suck._


	21. Chapter 21

It was business as usual in the bank, but Arthur was having a hard time focusing on work. His job tended to be boring all on its own, but today was ridiculous. Every passing hour found the Brit a little more anxious, a little less patient.

Gilbert couldn't get enough of it.

"Come on, Arzhur," he prodded lazily, smug grin firmly in place. "Tell me vhat's so distracting."

They were standing by the water cooler, each with a little paper cup to drink from. Less than an hour of the work day remained and Gilbert had been trying to get the information out of Arthur ever since the green-eyed blond had shown up that morning. When Arthur had first walked into the bank and Gilbert caught his eye, he hadn't been able to help the blush that came to his cheeks. He'd fought back a smile and quickly looked away, but it'd been too late. Gilbert had seen and refused to let Arthur brush it off. Now the work day was almost over, and Arthur was proud of the fact that he hadn't told his nosy coworker a thing. But the albino wasn't ready to give up just yet.

"Is it about Alfred? I bet it's about Alfred." Gilbert's eyes widened in false realization. "You shagged him! Tell me you shagged him. Somevone needs to shag zhat man. Please tell me it vas you." "I haven't shagged anyone," Arthur replied lightly, keeping his voice down to make sure no one would overhear. While Gilbert was busy trying to decide if he believed that or not, the Brit finished his water and tossed the empty cup into a trash bin. He was followed back to his office and sat behind his desk as Gilbert leaned against the door frame.

"At least tell me if it's Alfred."

Papers in his hands, Arthur looked up at the other male without lifting his chin. "It is." His attention was back on his work before Gilbert had a chance to celebrate his minor victory.

"Vell?" Now that he'd gotten that much out of the blond, Gilbert wasn't about to give up the chance to find out more. "Vhat happened? Did you see him over zhe veekend?"

"Yes." A moment after he said it, Arthur suddenly found that he had to lean back in his chair. Gilbert stood on the other side of desk, palms splayed on the wooden surface to support his weight as he leaned so far forward that Arthur was surprised he hadn't tipped over.

"Can I help you?" the green-eyed Englishman asked, his expression completely neutral compared to the rather smug grin on Gilbert's face.

"Vhat happened vizh Alfred zhis veekend, Arzhur?" The albino's voice was lower than normal. "Vhy'd you look at me like zhat zhis morning? Hm? If you didn't shag him, zhen vhat happened?"

Having the larger male hover over him like this was borderline intimidating. Really, he was that curious about how Arthur's weekend had gone? Why?

"We went to lunch yesterday." It was the simplest, vaguest description he could come up with.

" _Und?_ "

"And what? We ate lunch. It was a double date with a couple of his friends, and yes, they're very nice."

"Zhat doesn't explain zhe look you had zhis morning."

No, it didn't, because Arthur didn't want to explain the look he'd had that morning. He knew perfectly well it was because Alfred had asked to be his boyfriend and he knew that information would make Gilbert positively gleeful. Not that he didn't want the albino to be happy, but…he wasn't sure he could handle the teasing. Especially considering what was going to happen in only thirty minutes.

"Hm." For a moment, Gilbert remained in his somewhat precarious pose as he examined Arthur's face. "You're hiding somezhing."

"Am not," Arthur protested indignantly, forcing himself to maintain eye contact so Gilbert wouldn't automatically disagree. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish these before I leave." He raised one thick eyebrow expectantly and waited as Gilbert slowly straightened. "Thank you."

Even while the blond Brit got back to work, his white-haired coworker remained on the other side of the desk, arms crossed and expression suspicious. It was nearly a full minute before Arthur bothered to look up to see it, and his only reaction was to wave his hand dismissively.

"Don't you have work to do." Phrased as a question but without the intonation, it was clearly a hint for Gilbert to busy himself elsewhere. Still, the other man didn't move for another several seconds, and then he paused in the doorway.

"I'm going to figure it out," he said in an almost-warning tone.

Arthur didn't even bother looking up this time. "I'm sure you will."

Without another word, Gilbert left the office. Only when Arthur was sure his coworker was gone did he set the papers down and relax in his chair with a sigh. It surprised him how adamant Gilbert was about discovering the meaning behind that look. It was just a look. Really, it wasn't that big of a deal.

 _The look was about Alfred. It's a huge deal. Alfred's your_ boyfriend.

Okay, but he didn't want to make a big fuss about it and come out looking like an idiot. Alfred had been entirely calm about asking, so Arthur wanted to be entirely calm about it, too. Except thinking of the bespectacled model always made him feel a little giddy, which in turn left him embarrassed. He was a grown man. Giddy wasn't a word he wanted applied to him.

But he shouldn't be thinking of this now. These forms had to be completed and filed by the end of the day, which was only—Arthur glanced at his watch then quickly sat up and got back to work—twenty minutes from now.

Despite Gilbert's not-quite-a-threat comment, the albino made no more appearances for the last bit of their work day. Arthur finished the forms just in time, and filed them away for safekeeping right as his watch beeped to let him know that it was four in the afternoon. Then it was a matter of tidying up his desk for tomorrow before he logged out of his PC, grabbed his blazer, and made for the front door.

"Oi, Arzhur!" Gilbert's voice sounded behind him, but the Brit didn't turn. He'd already made it outside and had to pause to appreciate the sight that awaited him.

Grinning, his hair perfectly mussed, helmet under his arm, and dressed appealingly in jeans and a black leather jacket that was snug on his torso, Alfred leaned against his bike near the curb in front of the bank.

"Hey," he greeted, stepping away from the machine and towards where Arthur stood.

"Hi." The green-eyed blond couldn't have stopped smiling even if he'd wanted to. The two smiled at each other, and before they had a chance to do or say anything more, Gilbert finally came outside. He was obviously annoyed at having been ignored, but as soon as he realized what was going on, his irritation disappeared and was replaced with amusement.

" _Hallo,_ Al," he called to the American from his place beside Arthur.

"How's it going, Gil?" Alfred left his bike and climbed the steps to the front of the bank, stopping with one foot on a lower stair than the other.

" _Gut,_ except for Arzhur."

Both Alfred and Arthur looked at the albino.

"What?" Arthur failed to see what he'd done to be the exception to Gilbert's good day.

Somewhat possessively, Alfred wound an arm around the Brit's waist. "What'd Artie do?"

Unable to stop himself, Gilbert grinned. "He von't tell me about his veekend."

As soon as the words were out of the Prussian's mouth, Arthur glared. Alfred, on the other hand, was smiling.

"Well, I stole his Sunday." He was kind of proud of that, actually. The photoshoot had gone way better than he'd expected, and now he got to pick Arthur up from work and take him on their fourth date. Four dates, in less than two weeks! "Maybe I woke him up a little early, but he came with me and my boss to a photoshoot, then we went to lunch on a double-date."

"He didn't tell me about zhe photoshoot, even zhough I vas zhe vone giving him advice on Friday," the albino's tone was mournful and he turned wide, sad eyes on Arthur as the Brit flushed. "Suddenly, he doesn't trust me."

"That's not true!" The amount of guilt Arthur felt at that accusation was surprisingly large. "I just didn't want to sound like a git by going on and on about it."

"You vouldn't go on about it at all." The white-haired male turned his attention to Alfred. "Just finding out he vas vizh you vas a battle."

Catching onto the game immediately, Alfred fixed a puzzled frown into place and looked at the blond he currently had an arm around. "You don't want people to know we were together yesterday?"

"No! That's—I didn't—!" Arthur was almost frantic to fix the trouble he'd apparently caused, but he had no idea how. It wasn't that he didn't want people to know he'd been with Alfred. He actually liked the fact that his coworkers knew he was dating someone as handsome as the American. But his conversation with Gilbert had ended with him deciding to live a little bit, and he had, but he was still a gentlemen, and gentlemen don't kiss and tell. Spilling the details of the date seemed rude and arrogant to him, almost like he'd be bragging.

Still with that confused look, Alfred leaned closer to the green-eyed blond and rubbed his nose against Arthur's cheek. "I thought you'd be excited to tell Gilbert that we're boyfriends now," he whispered quietly enough that no one else would overhear.

Just the word made Arthur's face turn pink, and he looked down at his shoes in a bout of shyness. "I was going to," he mumbled, though that wasn't entirely true. He had meant to tell his coworker, he just didn't know when or how he meant to do it. But he'd have gotten around to it eventually.

"Yeah?" Alfred had both arms around the smaller blond now and was busy trying to get Arthur to meet his gaze.

"Yeah."

"All right." With a smile, the bespectacled tourist pulled the other into a hug and kissed his cheek, meeting Gilbert's gaze over Arthur's shoulder. "I asked Arthur to be my boyfriend yesterday."

Excitement brightened red eyes and Gilbert shifted in his shoes. "Really? _Gut!_ It's about time he found himself a lover!"

Alfred laughed while Arthur blushed and hid his face in the taller blond's shoulder.

"Shut up, Gilbert," the Briton half-muttered-half-growled into the leather of Alfred's jacket, only succeeding in making both of the other men grin at each other.

" _Ja, ja,_ I'll tease you about it tomorrow. Now get out of here—I know Alfred didn't come to pick you up for nozhing."

"Nope!" Alfred began guiding Arthur down the stairs towards his bike. "See ya around, Gil!"

" _Auf Wiedersehen,_ Alfred! Have fun, Arzhur!"

There was a suggestive lilt to the last part that made Arthur want to turn around so he could glare at his friend and maybe add an obscene gesture just for good measure. But Alfred had his waist and was moving steadily towards the bike, so he swallowed his temper and pushed the anger from his mind. Now was not the time to be annoyed with Gilbert. Now was the time to look forward to a nice evening with Alfred.

"Here you go." Always with that smile, Alfred offered the helmet to Arthur and settled onto the bike while the Brit put it on. Other bank employees watched in amused surprise as Arthur swung a leg over the bike and wrapped his arms around the taller blond's waist, helmeted head resting against Al's back as the bike was brought to life and fully uprighted.

"Ready when you are!" Arthur called over the noise of the engine, and Alfred nodded to show that he'd heard. Just a quick glance both ways to make sure the road was clear, and then the two were off.

Having Arthur so close to him, while definitely something that Alfred enjoyed, was currently something akin to torture. The Englishman's body heat, his thighs pressing against Al's hips, hands clasped over the American's stomach and torso resting on his back as they zoomed along the roads…he was so painfully aware of all the places they were touching.

_Keep it together, Al._

Easier said than done, by a lot. He hadn't fed since Friday morning. It was Monday afternoon. The hunger he'd been dealing with for over two hundred years was an annoying ruckus in the back of his skull. If he didn't feed soon, it would become unbearable. Problem was, he didn't want to cheat on Arthur to feed, but he didn't want to use Arthur for food, either. As much as he'd been looking forward to this date, he wasn't entirely sure he was going to be able to enjoy himself.

His internal battle made the ride feel like it took longer than it really did. They reached Arthur's apartment in practically no time at all, and Alfred waited outside with the bike while the other blond went inside to change. While Arthur was gone, Al did his best to pep talk himself, get himself prepared to deal with whatever came his way. It was going to be a nice, simple, innocent date. There shouldn't be anything to trigger his appetite, though sometimes he thought Arthur was all the trigger he needed. If the Englishman happened to get turned on by something, Alfred didn't know how well he'd handle it.

_I can do this. I can. Arthur's my boyfriend. We're going on a date. I'm going to be completely fine. No wrong moves. Not today._

Unfortunately, he wasn't very good at convincing himself.

Just then, the sound of Arthur's front door opening and closing caught his attention, and Alfred looked up to find the Brit in a pair of snug-fitting jeans and a pale orange, untucked button up shirt. It was a nice color against Arthur's skin, and a very relaxed outfit to match the wicker basket in the green-eyed blond's hands.

Alfred smiled and straightened, holding his hands out. "Here, I'll tie it on."

With a nod, Arthur handed over the basket and re-settled in his now usual place on the back portion of the seat. As soon as Alfred was done securing the basket and sat again, Arthur's legs tightened almost automatically, and he let his hands rest flat against Alfred's stomach rather than grip each other like before. It gave the bespectacled blond a great sense of pride to know Arthur trusted him enough to be so relaxed, and he couldn't help but grin to himself as he pulled away from the curb in front of the Brit's apartment and turned them off down the street.

Minutes later, after Arthur had given instructions over Alfred's shoulder so the American would know where to go, they arrived at a park. It was surrounded by a wrought iron fence, and the gate bore signs restricting vehicles and stating the rules about taking pets on the paths.

"This looks pretty nice," Al commented, holding the bike still as Arthur climbed off of it. Only when the Brit was steady on his own two feet did Alfred stand as well then take the basket off the back of his bike. Basket in one hand, he offered his arm to Arthur and grinned cheekily. "Lead the way."

Though he rolled his eyes at the old-fashioned gesture, Arthur accepted and let his hand lightly rest on the crook of Alfred's elbow as they entered the park and started along one of the paths. It wasn't a very big park, but it was nice, and Arthur knew his way around. He led Alfred straight to an open grassy area where they could enjoy their picnic.

"This look good to you?" he asked, gesturing at the flowering bushes nearby and the tree branches overhead that provided shade.

"Looks perfect."

Pleased by that response, Arthur took the basket from the other blond and set it in the grass, opening it to reveal a typical red-and-white-checkered picnic blanket at the very top. Alfred almost couldn't believe the Englishman had one of those, but he was too amused and happy about it to comment. So he just helped Arthur spread the blanket over the grass and sat by him after moving the basket to within their reach.

The only problem now was that Arthur was much too far away for Alfred's liking.

Before the Brit could move to get into the basket again for the food that'd been packed for dinner, Alfred snaked his arms around the golden blond and pulled until Arthur was all but sitting in his lap. Face red and shoulders hunching, Arthur shot a questioning look upwards at his companion only to have Alfred kiss the tip of his nose, which didn't do anything other than make the green-eyed blond blush even darker.

"Um….yes…?" he asked quietly, looking up again despite the danger that he might receive more kisses. Not that that was a dangerous possibility, though it'd be a huge distraction.

"Just didn't want you so far away." Alfred was smiling as he shifted his arms around Arthur's middle and made the smaller blond move to settle more comfortably against him. "It's our first date as a real couple, so I thought cuddling was required."

Oh. Right.

"Well, when you put it that way," Arthur spoke musingly, then pushed himself upright and moved until he was sitting square in the larger male's lap, leaning back to rest against Alfred's chest as the American continued to hug him around the middle. "You're going to have to help me reach the basket, though."

"I don't mind that." Wow, okay, he'd wanted to cuddle, but he hadn't expected this! It was almost like Arthur knew he was hungry and was testing his limits. Alfred knew that wasn't the case, of course, but he couldn't help but worry a little. This was a delicate situation he was in. If this date was going to go well, then he was going to need to keep it together.


	22. Chapter 22

It was a perfect day for a picnic. Or maybe Alfred just thought it was because of how much he was enjoying himself. Either way, this date was pretty perfect.

They were lying on their blanket, the food Arthur had brought was untouched because they weren’t hungry yet, and the breeze was just enough to keep them cool in the sun. Idly, Alfred brushed his fingers through Arthur’s hair. The weight of the Brit’s head resting on his stomach was surprisingly pleasant, and he let out a rather content sigh.

“This is nice.” His voice was light and relaxed, not sleepy but close to drowsing.

Arthur’s only response was a soft hum. He was closer to sleep than Alfred was, comfortable with his American pillow to snuggle against. Really, he could have stayed this way indefinitely. His boyfriend—he felt a little giddy just thinking of the word—was warm and the sun felt nice on his skin and through his clothes. And the way Alfred kept playing with his hair? Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

“You’ll put me to sleep,” the golden blond cautioned, and Alfred smiled.

“That’s okay.”

It was interesting to feel the model’s muscle tense and shift as he talked.

“We have to eat, though.” There was no conviction to his voice and it did nothing to convince Alfred to stop running his fingers through Arthur’s blond locks. They were soft and he liked the way it felt between his fingers, and besides, the green-eyed male was obviously enjoying it. No way was he going to stop if this made Arthur happy.

Man, this really was nice. The sun, the breeze, the fresh smell of grass and trees and flowers, Arthur lying against him like this. It was great. Best start to a date ever.

“Hey, Artie.”

“Hm?”

“What’re we doing after we eat?”

It was quiet as the Briton considered that question. In all honesty, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. He’d just packed a picnic basket this morning and stuck it in his fridge to grab after work.

“I don’t know. Lie here a while, I suppose. Talk.”

“About what?”

Turning, Arthur rested his cheek on the larger male’s stomach and looked towards Alfred’s face. His movement caused the American to sit up slightly, his weight braced on one hand, which led to Arthur’s head being in his lap more than on his stomach. Alfred’s free hand went back to stroking his companion’s hair and he smiled crookedly. Slowly, he leaned forward over the other male until he could brush his lips against Arthur’s forehead, his eyes falling closed during the few seconds of contact. When he drew away again, Arthur was looking up at him shyly, his cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink. The sight drew a chuckle from Alfred and he gently stroked the colored flesh.

“You’re cute, you know.”

Arthur blushed darker and looked away somewhat stubbornly, though he couldn’t help the pleased feeling he got from compliments like that.

“So,” the bespectacled model went back to playing with his boyfriend’s hair, “what are we gonna talk about after we eat?”

“I don’t know. What would you like to talk about?” Still just a little pink in the face, Arthur turned back so he could look up at Alfred’s face while the American thought.

“Mmm…I’d like to know more about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” Alfred was smiling slightly, his head tilted back as he looked up at the sky. “I wanna know about your family, where you grew up, your favorite food, dumb shit you did as a teenager, stuff like that.”

One side of Arthur’s mouth quirked up and his eyebrows drew together as he thought about the topics Alfred had listed. His family? As in his brothers? He wasn’t overly fond of talking about them. Where he grew up was nothing exciting. Favorite food…scones. There wouldn’t be much conversation around that one. And the dumb shyt he’d done as a teenager was embarrassing at best, so he wasn’t much inclined to talk about it. “Why would you want to know about any of that?” he asked slowly, watching as Alfred let his head fall forward so that their eyes met; Alfred smiled as if he didn’t understand the question.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my boyfriend—I want to know about you.”

Alfred grinned. “Deal. Food first, though, cause I’m getting hungry.”

Chuckling, Arthur nodded and sat up then moved towards the picnic basket. They hadn’t touched it after taking out the blanket they were currently sitting on, so he busied himself with emptying it of all its other contents. Paper plates and plastic cups, napkins, a couple of forks and butter knives were first, each set out neatly. Next came the food, which included several slices of bread, sliced meat and cheese, and some lettuce and sliced tomatoes for sandwiches, as well as a small tub of potato salad, a few apples, and a thermos of flavored water.

“Wow.” Alfred almost couldn’t believe the amount of food Arthur had managed to fit into that little basket. “You sure know how to pack for a picnic.”

The compliment earned a smile from his green-eyed companion, and Al had to resist the urge to distract Arthur from what he was doing so he could kiss him. That was allowed, he supposed, now that they were officially together, but he hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was starting to get hungry, so he kept his hands to himself while Arthur finished setting up the food and utensils.

_Hungry._

God, not now!

Frowning at himself, Alfred bit down on his tongue to keep himself from doing something stupid. He was on a date with Arthur and _he was not going to use the Brit for food, and that was final._ The incubus in him was just going to have to suffer until he got back to the hotel tonight, and then he’d let Feliks or Toris feed him. Not through sex, but there were other ways to get enough energy to tide him over.

_Great. Cheating on him less than three days into the relationship. Fucking great._

This was the absolute worst. But as Arthur finished with the food and started to look up, Alfred fixed a smile in place and shifted to sit cross-legged so he could reach more easily. “Looks delicious,” he complimented, earning another smile and a slight blush from the other male.

 _So easily flustered,_ he thought fondly, his hunger temporarily fading because how could he want to eat something so cute?

“Um,” Arthur busied himself with the food once again to avoid looking at the way Alfred was smiling at him, “what do you want on your sandwich?”

“I can do it.” Scooting closer, the bespectacled blond chose a plate then started separating out the supplies he needed for his sandwich. “You don’t have to make mine for me.”

“But you made me breakfast,” the Brit pointed out, “so it would be fair.”

“Except I’m not hung over,” Alfred teased, “and I slept on your couch, so breakfast was like payment for letting me stay.”

Arthur scoffed. “Let you? I’d have never made it out of bed without you.”

“You wouldn’t have made it into bed, either.”

That brought Arthur up short—what had he done?! “…what?”

Now realizing that maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say, Alfred took a few moments to put his sandwich together before he answered. “You couldn’t unbutton your waistcoat, so I had to help you. Then your shirt, and your belt.” He tried not to give away how tempting all of that had been, how close he’d come to pinning Arthur to his bed and claiming every inch of his body. Now probably wouldn’t be a very good time to betray how much he wanted the Brit.

As soon as Alfred’s words registered, Arthur buried his face in his hands, the potato salad he’d been reaching for now forgotten. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry.”

Alfred waved his hand dismissively as he chewed a bite of his sandwich. “Naw. You were being really sexy, but you were drunk, so I just helped you undress then left so you could sleep.”

Slowly, Arthur peeked between his fingers. “And got me painkillers. And made me breakfast. And drove me to work.”

“All part of the afterparty. I told you to drink as much as you wanted. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean to take care of you.” Smiling, Alfred took another bite of his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed as he looked at the other male.

It took a few seconds for Arthur to gather himself enough to lower his hands, and even then his face was still a little pink. But he let out a breath and reached for the potato salad again, this time serving some onto his plate then handing the tub to Alfred. They ate in near silence, since Arthur was too embarrassed to try to change the subject, and Alfred didn’t want to start talking again until his companion was ready. He’d let Arthur pick the next topic.

Being unnecessarily careful, Arthur made sure to scrape up the last bits of the potato salad with his fork before he set the plate aside and resettled on the blanket. Hearing that he’d made Alfred strip him a few nights ago was more than a little embarrassing, but he didn’t want to let that stop him from enjoying the rest of their date. Except, after that, he didn’t much feel like talking about himself, and he knew Alfred wouldn’t share anything unless he did, too. They were going to have to find something to do other than talk.

“So,” he looked up when Alfred started talking, “what should we do now?”

Arthur picked up the thermos and sipped at the flavored water to give himself time to think of a response. What was something couple did on dates?

“…we could watch a movie at my apartment,” he suggested a moment later, hoping that wasn’t too cliché or boring for Alfred’s tastes.

The American smiled. “That sounds nice.”

Surprised but pleased, Arthur blinked once before smiling in return. “Great. Ah, shall we?”

“Yeah.”

Together, the two blonds packed away the remaining food then folded up the blanket and nestled it neatly on top. It was a bit of a surprise for Arthur to feel Alfred take his hand once they started walking back towards the path, not that he minded. In fact, he was quick to shift his hand enough to lace his fingers through Alfred’s larger ones, and he couldn’t help but smile at how warm of a grip it was.

“Here.” Alfred took the basket and strapped it onto the back of his motorcycle again once they reached the bike, and Arthur was quick to put on the helmet he’d so quickly become accustomed to wearing. Then the taller blond was on the bike and waiting as the shorter settled on behind him, arms wrapped around Al’s torso and holding on tightly as the engine came to life.

As Alfred pulled away from the curb and Arthur rested lightly against his back, he tried to remember what sort of state his apartment was in. Clean, he hoped. Probably. He wasn’t a very messy person, so he doubted there’d be anything too out of place. Maybe a blanket he’d forgotten to put away or something like that. It should be fine for Alfred to come inside.

Oh, but what movie would they watch? He didn’t have very many American-made ones, not things Alfred would probably be familiar with or like. When was the last time he’d bought a movie? He couldn’t even remember. It wasn’t something he did very often. Books were more along the line of what he invested his time and money in. What if he didn’t have a movie Alfred would want to watch? Then what?

What felt like much too soon, they pulled up to the curb at his apartment and Alfred stopped the motorcycle, holding the bike upright as Arthur stood. The Brit swung his leg up and over until he was standing on his own then busied himself with removing the helmet as Al let the bike lean on its stand. It was ridiculous how nervous he suddenly felt. The day had been going so well and he didn’t want to be the reason it fell apart.

“Um,” he rolled the helmet between his palms as Alfred turned and smiled at him, “I don’t know that we’ll find any good movies to watch, but…”

“It’ll be fine. Got your keys?” Alfred had the basket off the back of the bike.

“Yeah.” Arthur’s mind was racing to remember what movies he had as he went to his front door and unlocked it, held it open so Alfred could go in first. Everything was neat and clean, as always, which helped to relax him, but he couldn’t help but think of the last time Alfred had been here as he paused to take off his shoes. One hand braced against the wall for balance, he watched the American set the basket on the kitchen counter then continue on into the living room.

“Where are your movies?” The bespectacled male’s attention wandered over Arthur’s living room in search of a shelf or rack.

Hands busy unpacking the picnic basket so its contents could be put in the fridge, Arthur leaned just far enough to see around the corner. “Cabinet under the TV.” He watched as Alfred sat on the floor and opened the cabinet to examine the DVDs stored there.

“Alphabetized. Nice.”

Of course they were alphabetized. Arthur wouldn’t have thrown them in there willy-nilly. But he didn’t say that, just quickly tucked the leftover food into its proper places and left the basket on the counter to be put away later. It belonged in the hall closet—he just didn’t feel like putting it away just yet.

“Pick whatever you want,” he instructed as he came into the living room and settled on the couch, legs folded beneath himself. Alfred was humming and commenting under his breath as he read the titles on the case spines. It was the only sound, since Arthur didn’t feel like interrupting him. And besides, he found it entertaining and sort of cute.

Eventually, Alfred let out a long sigh and leaned back on his hands. “Which one’s your favorite?”

Arthur didn’t hesitate. “ _Love Actually._ ”

“Then let’s watch that.” Thanks to the alphabetizing, it was a matter of seconds for Alfred to locate the movie and pull it off the shelf. Curious, he examined the cover and decided that this must be a Christmas movie. They were going to watch a Christmas movie in the summer. Well, why not?

Luckily, Arthur’s entertainment system was nothing fancy, so he didn’t have to do a whole lot of poking around before he figured out how to work it. Then the DVD was loading and the TV was on—previews started playing just as he pushed himself to his feet then moved to join Arthur on the couch.

“Nope.” Smiling, the Brit lifted a foot and pushed at Alfred’s thigh so the American couldn’t sit. “Get the remote first. It’s on top of the TV.”

With a chuckle, Alfred turned and retrieved the remote before he tried again. Arthur let him sit this time, and was quick to crawl across the couch and lie against Alfred, shifting until he was comfortable. An arm wound around his waist to hold him close, and Alfred used the remote to skip the previews. He clicked the play button as soon as the DVD menu allowed, and then the movie’s beginning scene started. It was a narration about love being everywhere, if someone were to look hard enough.

The only sounds in the apartment other than that of the movie were occasional chuckles from the two males lying together on the couch. Alfred also had a moment of excitement when he recognized Alan Rickman and basically shouted that Snape was in this movie. He also recognized Keira Knightley, Liam Neeson, and Martin Freeman, all of which betrayed that he was a nerd, and which Arthur found to be ridiculously cute. Which he also resisted commenting on because he got the feeling Alfred would have gotten embarrassed if he’d pointed it out.

Besides, there was something else he wanted to ask about, when Colin was telling Tony why he wanted to go to America.

“Would that actually work?” he asked, green eyes never leaving the TV screen.

“What?”

“Him wanting to go to America to find a girlfriend because he has a cute British accent. Would it really work like that?”

Alfred grinned and shifted behind the golden blond, pulling Arthur just a little bit closer. “Yeah. Lucky me for coming here. If you’d come to America, I’d have had to fight off dozens of people just to get your attention.”

“I think you’d have gotten my attention no matter what.”

“Good,” the blue-eyed male whispered before kissing the side of Arthur’s neck. Really, he’d been resisting doing that for a while. It was just so tempting, having that pale bit of neck right there this whole time, so easily within reach to kiss and nip and lick. He’d only held back because this was Arthur’s favorite movie, and he didn’t want to be a jerk by interrupting. Plus, it was a pretty good movie, and he knew he wouldn’t feel nearly this tempted if it wasn’t for the fact that he was hungry.

So he resisted doing anything more.

The movie continued, eventually coming back to Colin’s story and showing his arrival to Wisconsin. Alfred and Arthur watched as he took a cab to a bar, ordered a beer, and was promptly noticed by a rather attractive woman. Two more soon joined, and within minutes, Colin was being invited to their house to have sex with all three of them, including a fourth girl who had yet to be introduced.

“This is the only part I can’t really believe,” Arthur admitted, “except that they wanted him to list things just so they can hear his accent.”

Alfred grinned a little. “Would you do that to me?”

“What?”

“Make me list things to hear my accent.”

“I don’t need you to list things to hear your accent.”

“What about my other accent?” the American asked, his attention now completely on Arthur as if the movie was no longer playing.

Shifting on the couch, Arthur turned so he was lying on his back and looking up at the taller blond. “Other accent?”

The blue-eyed blond’s features were overtaken by a sly grin. “Ya know th’ one I mean, sugar,” he drawled, watching as Arthur’s face turned pink all over again. The sight made him chuckle, and he couldn’t help but wonder just what he could get away with.

“Hm? Ya like this’n, right? Makes yer face turn all purdy.” Gently, he stroked Arthur’s cheek and tried not to get distracted by the sense of arousal coming off the smaller male. Damn, though, he was seconds away from pressing heat into the Brit and reducing him to a moaning mess. Arthur was already flushed and growing warmer, anyway, and the way he was looking up at Alfred made the model want to kiss him mercilessly. Flushed cheeks, his chin tucked to his collarbone and his bangs hanging over his eyes just slightly. Gold and green and pale pink.

_Perfect._

_Hungry._

Shit, if this kept up he was going to feed off Arthur whether he wanted to or not. Why did the Brit have to look at him like that? Why did his arousal have to feel so damn good? It was warm and sweet and promised that his pleasure would be even better.

“Artie, darlin’,” he murmured, leaning over the smaller blond and letting his forehead rest against Arthur’s, “tell me now if ya don’ wan’ter do this. Cause I wan’ ya.”

Hesitance came into the Englishman’s expression, though he was still obviously aroused by the way Al was talking. He looked away for a few seconds, hands fidgeting at his sides. “Al…”

“It’s okay if ya say no.”

“Well, I,” Arthur glanced at the man hovering over him, nervous now, “I don’t think…” Hell, what should he say? That accent turned him on but he hadn’t expected to end up in this situation. Certainly not to be on his couch, practically underneath the man who had so recently become his boyfriend, least of all to have his blood pooling in his groin and making him feel so uncomfortably warm. He wanted Alfred to take care of it for him, but shagging on his couch, for their first time together, didn’t sound good enough.

It wasn’t good enough.

“I want it to be special,” he admitted quietly, still not meeting Alfred’s gaze, “and it wouldn’t be, now.”

Slowly, the American smiled and kissed Arthur’s forehead. “I understand.” He paused when arms encircled his neck, waiting for Arthur to say whatever decision he seemed to be struggling with.

“Instead of sex,” the Brit spoke softly, “could we…?”

_He’s cute when he’s nervous._

Alfred’s smile turned into a grin. “I kin make ya feel good, sugar. I kin make ya feel real good.”

“Alfred.” It was just short of a whimper—Arthur had to bite his lip to keep from whining. The way Alfred had purred that was entirely unfair, and the Brit’s partial arousal had quickly increased. Any more of that accent and he’d be helpless to resist.

“Hush now, darlin’. Save that purdy voice.”

_God help me._

To Arthur’s surprise, the next thing to happen was Alfred sitting up rather than touching him in some way. Confused, he looked up at the American with a slight frown. His expression made Alfred chuckle, and the blue-eyed blond gently brushed the Brit’s bangs out of his eyes.

“Sit up, sweetheart. I know what I’m doin’.”

All these pet names were going to leave Arthur more flustered than he’d ever been in his life. But he did as he was told, and watched curiously as Alfred lay on the couch and hooked his knees on the armrest so that his head was comfortable on the cushion.

Grin firmly in place, the American patted his chest. “C’mere, darlin’.”

Arthur stared. “…what?” He couldn’t possibly mean what the green-eyed blond thought he meant. Sit on his chest? That would mean…

His hesitance only led to Alfred gripping his wrist and tugging until Arthur was left with no choice but to climb over the bespectacled model and straddle his muscular torso. From this angle, they could both clearly see the bulge in Arthur’s trousers. But Alfred rested his hands on the Brit’s hips instead of touching him right away.

“Comfy?” he asked with a smile, and Arthur nodded shyly. “Good.” Another second or two passed before Alfred slid his hands around and opened the buckle of his boyfriend’s belt. Next was the button of his trousers, then the zipper; Arthur let out a soft sigh of relief as some of the pressure on his groin was released.

“Lift up,” Alfred commanded quietly, and the Brit did as he was told. He rose onto his knees, one hand on the back of the couch for balance, and watched as Alfred tugged his trousers and pants down off his hips. The sight made him blush, but he didn’t protest or resist. He couldn’t—he wanted this too badly.

Who wouldn’t? Really, he was straddling a sexy American model with his pants down and strong hands on his hips. Gentle pressure guided him forward until there was absolutely no room to question what Alfred meant to do.

Biting his lip, Arthur dug his fingers into the back of the couch as he looked down at the taller blond. Blue eyes were watching him from behind glasses as Alfred slowly lifted his head off the cushion. His lips parted slightly, and Arthur tensed in anticipation. Breath ghosted against his heated flesh and he shivered a split second before his breath caught in his throat.

Alfred smirked around the object in his mouth. It was just the tip for now, caught between his lips, but it was enough that Arthur had inhaled sharply then frozen, his green eyes locked on what the American was doing.

Teasingly, Al lifted his head little-by-little to take the Brit’s length as slowly as he could manage. He could feel Arthur trembling and recognized how tense the golden blond’s thighs were, and he knew it was because of him. With his gaze trained on Arthur’s face to watch his reaction, Alfred wrapped his hands around those perfect pale thighs and squeezed gently as he began to suck. Lightly, his head rocking just a little to create pressure and slick friction.

“Haaah…Alfred…” The Englishman whined, his hips rocking forward in a weak attempt to get his companion to pick up the pace a little. It wasn’t fair, this combination of heat and wet and Al’s fingers rubbing at his inner thighs. Arthur struggled to maintain control of his body as he lowered his weight onto Alfred’s chest again, his legs shaking too much to hold him up for much longer. He still had hold of the couch back, and he kept that grip as his eyes closed and his mouth hung slack to let soft moans escape.

There was so much warmth, so much heat that he thought he would start sweating. It was trapped under his clothes, spreading over his skin, and he knew his face was red even though this wasn’t much work so far. He was just so hot. Heat under him from Alfred, on his thighs where the American was touching him and around his cock from that damn mouth. God, that mouth.

A tease. That’s what Alfred was. He was a tease, a bloody git for tormenting Arthur like this. Hadn’t he said he was going to make the Brit feel good? What was he waiting for? Why was he taking so long?

“Al.” The green-eyed blond’s voice was strained and he leaned forward, resting his forehead and arms on the armrest so that he was curled over the American’s face. “Please.” He couldn’t even keep his eyes open; his breathing was uneven. Alfred’s hands were practically burning against his thighs, making his entire body feel tight and hot, and he was barely managing to keep from jerking his hips forward.

To Arthur’s dismay, rather than cease his tormenting, Alfred chose to slowly lay his head back down then grinned up at the golden blond.

“Doin’ all right, darlin’?”

Arthur could have slapped him.

“No,” the Brit growled, shifting on his boyfriend’s chest and digging his nails into the fabric on the armrest, “I’m not all right. I’m being teased by an American git with a talented bloody mouth.”

Amused, Alfred smirked and lightly rubbed at the other male’s thighs. “You think I’m good with my mouth?”

Hadn’t he made it clear what he thought? If this kept up, Arthur was going to get too annoyed to continue. But he swallowed his temper and sighed instead.

“Yes. Now, please, love, put it to use and be nice.” He sounded more exasperated than anything, but really, he was hard and hot and this was the first time he’d done anything more than kiss the American—while sober, at least—and he didn’t think it was proper for Alfred to be a tease for their first sexual interaction.

For a moment, Alfred merely looked up at the blond curled over him. Arthur’s face was flushed a dark red and his shirt was rumpled from lying on the couch, and he was panting lightly. He wasn’t heavy, so his weight was kind of nice, and his hips and thighs were so soft that Al couldn’t help but run his hands over the pale skin.

He really was beautiful.

Alfred smiled crookedly. “Whatever ya say, sugar.” Moving quickly, he lifted his head again and swallowed Arthur’s length as best he could.

“Ah!”

The cry was muffled by the couch’s armrest, but it was enough for him to know that what he was doing felt good. So he held onto Arthur’s hips to bring the shorter blond closer to himself, and he set to the task of sucking him off. Moans reached his ears, breathy and weak as he licked and sucked, tilting his head in whatever angle he had to in order to give Arthur as much pleasure as possible.

“O-oh my…god…Alfred…!” Panting, Arthur clung to the armrest and rocked his hips forward in time with the way Alfred’s mouth was moving on him. The heat was so much worse now than it was before, was so much more intense. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but hold onto the couch and struggle to keep up with the pleasure flooding his senses. It was just a blowjob. The best blowjob of his life. He’d never felt so good from something so little before. No one had ever made him helpless so easily.

God, he was close. His stomach was tight, every muscle in his body taut and straining. “Al!”

As if his name being shouted was a cue, Alfred redoubled his efforts. He abandoned Arthur’s thighs in favor of cupping his ass, fingers squeezing and kneading the Brit’s plump rear while his mouth worked to earn every moan and whimper. It was obvious that Arthur was enjoying everything that was being done to him, but Alfred was surprised by how much energy he was getting.

The green-eyed blond’s pleasure was amazing, delicious, sweeter than any food the incubus had ever tasted. It made his thoughts go fuzzy like too much alcohol until all he could think was that he wanted more. More pleasure, more sweet energy, more sounds of want and shudders that ran down Arthur’s spine as he continued to roll his hips forward into Alfred’s eager mouth. He’d been so hungry, but he thought the energy he’d get from Arthur’s climax would keep him sated for days. All he had to do was get the Brit to that tipping point then take him over.

Determined to succeed, Alfred relaxed his throat and pulled at Arthur’s hips until he had every inch of the shorter blond’s length. It tickled the back of his throat and he rolled his tongue against the underside, teeth catching the sensitive skin at the base. One of those delicious shudders left Arthur trembling and the Briton let out a loud groan.

“I’m….Al…nn…close…” he keened, face buried in the armrest and shoulders hunched up to his ears. If it hadn’t been for Alfred holding his hips still, he’d have been writhing, but the most he could do was shift around a little and hope the American would take pity on him soon.

Ever so slowly, he felt those teeth begin to drag. They caught and pulled at his skin and he bit his lip so hard he was surprised he didn’t taste blood.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck…!_

“ _Alfred!_ ” The model’s name left him in the form of a hoarse shout as Arthur jerked against the hold on his hips, his entire body going rigid at the sudden spike of pleasure that erased his world. His nails dragged against the couch and he bit the armrest in an attempt to survive the burning white that overwhelmed him. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, could only feel the hands on his hips and the mouth on his cock, felt Alfred’s throat tighten slightly as he swallowed.

Then, the white began to fade. All of his strength left him and Arthur collapsed against the armrest, trembling with the effort it took just to keep from falling on Alfred. He barely noticed when the American released him or when the hands on his hips moved to gently rub his back. The only reason he knew about that was because it felt nice. Everything felt nice. His skin tingled with the leftover heat and pleasure of his orgasm; his spine was full of tiny sparks.

“Fuck,” he breathed, too tired to manage anything else.

When the Brit made no sign that he meant to move after a few relatively quiet minutes, Alfred carefully began to push at his companion’s chest. He was gentle in laying Arthur against the couch back so that he could sit up, and then he pulled the smaller male into his lap so he could cuddle him.

_I fed off him._

And it had been amazing to the point that he couldn’t feel bad about it. Arthur had wanted to. Of course, he hadn’t really known what he was getting himself into, but he had enjoyed it anyway. And now he was exhausted from his first time feeding an incubus, and Alfred was satisfied in the way only a good meal could do, so he held onto his almost-lover and sighed into Arthur’s hair.

“Sleep, Artie,” he murmured when the golden blond began to move, and Arthur obediently settled down again.

Nuzzling against the American’s chest, he closed his eyes and let his body go limp, not caring that he was still exposed. He was tired, and all he wanted was to rest.

So Alfred held him while he drifted off, rubbed his back and kissed the top of his head and occasionally murmured that he wasn’t going anywhere or that Arthur was beautiful and perfect. Sleep was quickly overtaking him. Being well-fed usually woke him up, but he was content enough that he started to doze off only a short while after Arthur had fallen asleep.

In the background, completely forgotten by the two blonds, _Love Actually_ continued to play.


	23. Chapter 23

Mortified. Ashamed. Disgraced.

Sated.

Arthur couldn’t figure out what he was. His favorite movie had somehow led to Alfred sucking him off on his couch. How?

_That bloody accent._

It was the only explanation. Under normal circumstances, he never would have done something like that. Never. But, still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it in the slightest. Not when he still felt this way.

Even though they were both awake, neither blond had moved from their spots on the couch other than to use the remote to turn off the movie. Other than that, they’d only bothered to snuggle a little closer to each other, arms wrapped around waists, legs tangled, Arthur’s face nuzzled into Alfred’s neck. The American smelled amazing, as always.

Lying there, even on the couch instead of a bed, Arthur was far too comfortable to move. Yes, his pants and trousers had yet to be fixed, but he honestly didn’t care. It wasn’t like he was cold—not with Alfred holding him like this. No, he was warm and comfortable and, hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so satisfied. When he was a teenager, maybe, back when sex had been a regular hobby. But back then, it would have taken some thorough shagging to feel this way, and now he felt it and they hadn’t even had sex. He wasn’t sure how it was possible for a simple blow job to leave him limp-limbed and drowsy even after a nap, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

_What will sex be like…?_

Oh, he was curious. So, so curious. Alfred would be a god in bed. He was a god anyway. Just his mouth was incredible. Shagging the American would be…ah, what was the word? Incredible? Fantastic? Unforgettable? No, those weren’t right, but there was a word for it, Arthur was sure. He just had to remember what it was.

It didn’t matter for now, though. Sex with Alfred was a little ways off yet, so no point in worrying about it. For now, all he wanted to thing about was the American’s warmth and scent, his arms holding Arthur as close as possible, and the strong, steady _ba-bump_ he could feel through Alfred’s chest.

This was perfect.

With a happy hum, the Brit wiggled in order to press just a little harder against his boyfriend’s body, his lips curved in a smile. Unable to keep a straight face after how blatantly adorable that had been, Alfred opened his eyes far enough to glance down at the smaller male. This was going better than he’d expected, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. His partners were never disappointed, after all. But he was still glad that Arthur was okay with what had happened—the last thing he wanted was to rush things and ruin them.

Shifting, the bespectacled blond lifted a hand so he could stroke Arthur’s hair. As always, it was fine and soft to the touch, the perfect shade of gold to compliment those green eyes and that pale skin.

_I love you._

Alfred surprised himself by thinking it, so much so that he opened his mouth to say it before he realized and stopped himself. He couldn’t say that, could he? It was too soon. Way too soon. And where could it go? Into letters and phone calls and emails when he went back to America at the end of the summer? That wouldn’t be enough.

_I’m getting in over my head. Love? I can’t fall in love. I’m an incubus. Love is a death wish._

But even the thought of keeping it to himself made him want to hold tight to Arthur and never let go. The Brit was his and he definitely didn’t want to share. He’d kill anyone who tried to take the golden blond away from him.

 _I love him,_ he thought resignedly, then gave himself a mocking smile. I’m an idiot. Well, there was no help for it. He’d fallen for Arthur in a matter of weeks. The only thing left to do was figure out how he was going to survive it. That could come later, though. First, he wanted to just enjoy the smaller man’s company.

“Hey, Artie,” the incubus murmured, shifting again as he continued to run his fingers through the Brit’s hair.

Rousing himself, Arthur looked up and met the other’s gaze, his expression sleepy-eyed and curious. “What?”

_So fucking cute._

No, no, he needed to get a hold of himself.

“You still haven’t told me anything about yourself,” Alfred pointed out, forcing himself to ignore how badly he wanted to kiss the Englishman.

Slowly, Arthur blinked. “Oh. That.”

_That?_

Alfred was instantly concerned by his companion’s flat tone. “Something wrong?”

“No.” Reluctant to move and lose how comfortable he was, Arthur nevertheless sat up and began fixing his clothes to give himself time to think. “What do you want to know?”

Even though he got the feeling that Arthur wasn’t up to sharing, Al sat up as well and moved to give the other male plenty of space. “I’m curious about your family,” he suggested, hoping that wasn’t too sensitive of a topic to start with.

“I have three older brothers.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What’re their names?”

Arthur stood so he could straighten his shirt and make sure he’d done his belt properly. “Seamus, Allistor, and Dylan.”

For a moment, Alfred considered what he should say next. There were ripples of tension coming off the Brit, and he didn’t want to risk turning those into waves of anger. Still, he was curious. Why was this a touchy subject?

“…do you mind telling me about them?” he asked, his tone almost cautious, watching Arthur’s back for any sign of trouble.

The golden blond didn’t answer right away. What should he say? He wasn’t exactly proud of his brothers, and his brothers definitely weren’t proud of him. He could try to portray them in a good light, he supposed, but they probably wouldn’t have done the same for him, and it wasn’t like he owed them any favors.

“They’re gits,” he said simply, turning to face the other male with a blank expression. “I’ve never gotten along with them.”

“Why not?” Alfred lifted his arms in a silent invitation, and Arthur quietly settled onto the larger blond’s lap so that the model could hug and cuddle him.

He nuzzled into the American’s shoulder before answering. “We fought a lot as kids. My parents died when I was…twelve, I think. Seamus took over after that. Naturally, I was a sodding little git and didn’t want to listen to him. Allistor got along with him fine. Dylan acted mean, but he made sure I was alive more than Sea and Al did.”

“I didn’t realize you were an orphan,” Alfred commented, his hold on the smaller blond becoming just a little more protective.

“It’s not something I talk about. Back then, it was something I was always trying to forget.”

Comfortingly, Al squeezed the man in his arms. “We don’t have to talk about it. You can pick a new topic.”

Arthur nodded a little—now wasn’t the time for depressing conversations. “What about you? What’s your family like?”

Well, his parents had been dead for almost two centuries, and he had an “adoptive father” in the form of an age-old French mythical, who, with the help of an alcoholic madman, had turned him into a sex demon. Oh, then there was the Faerie and the fire Nymph he lived with and occasionally fed on and would have been more inclined to claim as his family than the bastards who made him.

No better to talk about than Arthur’s family.

“My parents died a while after I left my dad’s farm, and I never had any siblings. Now I have Fe and Tor—we do a good job taking care of each other, think.” Okay, that was all true enough. No harm in telling it to Arthur.

“You seem really close to them.”

“I am. They sort of…took me in, you know?” Alfred smiled crookedly, his gaze on the floor as he let his imagination draw up memories of meeting the other two mythicals. “We just happened to meet in this little café, and it was probably about three in the morning. Feliks took one look at me and decided to recruit me to be a model.” He decided to leave out the part about it being a mythicals-only café and that he’d actually found the two wrapped up in each other in a corner booth because he’d been hungry and the smell of their arousal was too good to resist. Mentioning that they’d had a threesome that night was probably out of the question, too.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” Arthur teased lightly, smiling up at the blue-eyed blond.

Alfred looked towards the ceiling and sighed dramatically. “Of course it doesn’t. You took one look at me and decided I was American tourist trash.”

“I couldn’t believe someone as handsome as you was talking to me, actually.” It was safe to admit that now that they were in a relationship.

“I couldn’t believe you turned me down even after I used my infamous model charms.”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur lifted one thick eyebrow higher than the other and pursed his lips to one side. “I’d never met a model before, so you can’t blame me for not realizing I was supposed to swoon on the spot and let you sweep me off my feet.”

“As if a face like mine means you should do anything else.”

Arthur snorted. “You’re a cocky bastard.”

With a grin, Alfred caught the smaller blond’s chin in his hand and turned Arthur’s head until they were face-to-face, noses almost touching, so he could look deep into Arthur’s eyes. “Maybe, but you’re the one who agreed to be my boyfriend, so I know you don’t really mind,” he cooed playfully, then stole a quick kiss from the Brit before letting him go.

Immediately, Arthur’s face flushed pink and he shoved the larger male back against the couch as his expression morphed into a pout. “Watch it, you.”

“I’d rather watch you.” There was more than a small flirtatious edge to Alfred’s tone, one that made Arthur feel hot under the collar within seconds. Still, he forced himself to keep a steady tone and somehow managed to act aloof.

“That’s unfortunate. I’m not a fan of being stared at by perverts.” That was a lie, of course. He’d always enjoyed a bit of exhibitionism during his younger years and liked to think he would still be pretty good at it. Not that he meant to tell Alfred about that.

With a sly smirk, Al wrapped his arms around the Englishman’s waist and drew Arthur close, lowering his voice into a husky whisper. “Then I guess I’ll have to change your mind. Or maybe,” he nuzzled the green-eyed male’s cheek before putting his mouth by Arthur’s ear, “you’d rather be the one to watch?”

Bloody hell. That git. This was almost as bad as having that damned accent turned on him. Alfred was being seductive and he’d already been sucked off once—if this kept up, it was going to happen again. He’d already been imagining having Alfred watch him, but the thought of watching the American, of having that entire perfect body laid out just for him to look at and admire, well, that was a pretty nice thought. Just maybe not for right now.

“I don’t have to put up with this,” he declared instead, removing Alfred’s arms from around his middle and standing so he could move towards the kitchen. Walking made it obvious to him that he was at least a little aroused, but he meant to keep it from going any further. If he let the git on his couch get away with shagging him already, he wouldn’t have the fun of making him work for it. Besides, this sort of flirting could too easily lead to them actually trying it out, and as exciting as that sounded, he wanted to be ready for it when it happened. Which meant he needed to do a little shopping first.

Even though he wasn’t showing it, Alfred was a little relieved that Arthur had gotten up. Any more of that game and he’d have had the awkward task of asking the Brit to move because he was getting too hard to have the object of his arousal perched on his lap without clothes being taken off. It wouldn’t have been too awkward, since he could smell that Arthur was getting turned on, too, but still. He didn’t want to push things.

“So,” he called, pulling one leg up to rest his ankle on his opposite knee, his arms stretched along the back of the couch, “what now?”

“Now?” Arthur’s voice was slightly distorted since it was coming out of the kitchen.

“Yeah. We had a picnic for dinner, we watched a move,” the American’s voice lowered into a drawl, “I made ya feel good,” he grinned at the slight spike in Arthur’s arousal, but went back to his usual accent, “and now we’ve talked about our families. What should we do now?”

_You should leave before I come back in there and make you talk like that while I ride you, you infuriating wannabe cowboy._

But Arthur could never actually say that. “I’m not sure.”

“I guess we could just talk about something else.”

“That sounds fine.”

“All right.” There was a pause as Alfred tried to come up with something to say. “When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

Arthur paused then walked out of the kitchen, a glass of lemonade in each hand. “What?”

Looking up at the Brit, Alfred smiled. “I wanted to be a superhero.” To be fair, back when he’d actually been a little kid, they weren’t called superheroes, but that didn’t change anything. It was what he’d wanted to be. A hero.

“Well,” Arthur was careful in placing the drinks on coasters before he sat beside the other blond and rested against him, “I wanted to be a wizard.”

“Like in _Harry Potter_ or like in _Lord of the Rings_?” the bespectacled male clarified, and Arthur chuckled.

“Both. I wanted to be able to perform spells, go to a magic school and have a wand, ride broomsticks and the like. But I also like the kind of magic that doesn’t require specific spells, the ‘this is what I want and magic will make it happen’ kind. I always wanted to be able to use magic.”

“Did you ever think about becoming a magician?”

Arthur made a face. “Oh, no. Magicians use slight-of-hand and illusions. I wanted to use real magic. Being a magician would have been a pathetic alternative.” Besides, he’d had far too much pride for something like that—his friends would have laughed themselves silly.

“Well, I think you’d pull off the caped look really well.”

Both blonds smiled; Alfred let his arm rest around Arthur’s shoulders.

“Thanks.” Arthur took a drink of his lemonade so he’d have time to come up with the next question. “If you could travel to anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

“That’s a silly thing to ask.”

The Brit frowned. “Why?”

Alfred grinned and nuzzled the pale man’s cheek. “Cause I’m already right here.”

Okay, he admitted it, that was pretty smooth, but Arthur still rolled his eyes. “Flatterer,” he accused, and the model chuckled.”

“True. I think I’d go to the Alps. I’ve already been to Paris and obviously London, and most of the US, Vancouver, Warsaw, Rome and the like. Feliks loves travelling, so we go on trips like this one all the time. But he always picks cities and big tourist locations. If I got to choose, I’d want to go stay in the country for a while, somewhere with hills and mountains, maybe a lake. Big and wide open and green. You know?”

That sounded absolutely perfect. “Yeah,” Arthur breathed dreamily, his imagination taking him to a cute little cabin at the base of a mountain where they could be away from the world for a little while, just him and Alfred. “That would be incredible.”

Alfred had to smile at how cute that was. “What about you? Where would you go?”

The question drew him out of his daydream. “Oh, well, I was going to say New Zealand, but I like your idea, too.”

A wide grin took over the American’s features. “New Zealand would be great! I didn’t even think about that. New Zealand. That’s where I’ll go.” Alfred paused then smiled at his companion. “Want to go?”

“…really?” Arthur wasn’t sure if that was a serious question or not.

“Yeah, why not? You’ve got a passport, right?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“I’d love to go to New Zealand with you, Artie.” The taller blond was sincere, his eyes bright with excitement and an eagerness that reminded Arthur of a puppy.

What should he say? He wanted to go, there was no doubt about that, but getting the time off from work, and paying for it, and he really hadn’t known Alfred long enough to go on a trip like that with him. He wanted to, but he felt like he shouldn’t.

“I don’t know, Al,” he hedged, voice low. “That’s a big trip.”

“Not for Feliks.”

Oh, so Feliks and Toris would go along, too.

“We could rent two cabins, and they’d have one and we’d get the other, and we could go hiking, and see where they filmed the _Rings_ movies.” Alfred was in full vacation-planning mode now, his imagination running wild with possibilities. “It would be great, Artie.”

Now it was starting to sound more like his original daydream, and that sounded pretty bloody perfect.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” he surrendered with a smile, and Alfred grinned widely before hugging him.

“Great!” In his excitement, the American didn’t pause to think before drawing back far enough to kiss the man in his arms. It was a short kiss, but a nice one, and the two smiled at each other when he pulled away again, him beaming and Arthur just short of flustered.

To hide the flush that was coming into his cheeks, the Briton busied himself with his lemonade and focused on calming his heartbeat. Alfred’s excitement was infectious, or maybe it was just the kiss, but either way he was feeling a bit giddy and short of breath. So far, dating an American model was even more interesting than he’d expected, and he didn’t mind in the slightest.


	24. Chapter 24

Sitting at his desk, Arthur watched a familiar white-haired figure pass by the windows of his office for probably the fifth time that afternoon. He wanted to call out and catch the other man’s attention, but his throat tightened, and the hand he’d started to lift lowered back to his keyboard. Apparently, now wasn’t the best time.

_He’s probably busy. Hard at work. I’ll ask him later._

The work day was almost over, anyway. Only about fifteen minutes left. He could always just catch Gilbert after they’d clocked out, and ask him then. If he was honest with himself, though, Arthur knew he would probably keep letting his cowardice get the better of him. Not that he was afraid. Definitely not. He just wasn’t sure how to go about asking. How was he supposed to bring up such a delicate topic? While at work, no less? Gilbert certainly wouldn’t have minded, the Brit was at least sure of that, but still. He didn’t know how to start the conversation.

There went that white hair again.

_What is he doing out there?_

It was unusual for Gilbert to pass by his office so often. The Prussian had his own desk, after all, and should have been spending this time talking to the bank’s loyal customers, or perhaps convincing new ones to open accounts. But walking back and forth didn’t seem to be serving any sort of purpose at all, other than to give Arthur more chances to consider saying something only to stop himself because it wasn’t the right time.

With a sigh, the green-eyed blond lowered his head in defeat. At this rate, he probably wasn’t going to ask at all. But he shook himself and refocused on his computer. He had work to do.

“Hey, Arzhur.”

_Hell._

The blond could have collapsed on his desk and simply disappeared. He almost did. But he restrained himself, and settled for putting a hand over his eyes and leaning his weight on his elbow so that he wouldn’t have to look. Now, of all times, just after he’d decided to not even ask, Gilbert was leaning through his doorway with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Yes?” he didn’t sound nearly as calm as he would have liked.

“Is zhere a reason your office is filling zhe bank vizh tension?”

Oh, no, it wasn’t really that noticeable, was it?

“I don’t know what you mean.” Arthur didn’t move as Gilbert came the rest of the way into the office and shut the door behind himself.

“You vatched me valk by like four times. Vhat’s on your mind?”

Lord have mercy on him, it really was that obvious.

“It’s nothing. Nothing appropriate to discuss at work, anyway.”

One of Gilbert’s eyebrows went up. “Zhat doesn’t seem to keep you from zhinking about it.”

Nothing had been keeping him from thinking about it. Not work, not sleeping last night, not visiting his favorite café for lunch, nothing. It was like his mind was stuck on replay, and everyone in the bank, apparently, knew something was wrong with him.

Keeping his head lowered to hide the flush coming into his cheeks, Arthur folded his hands in his lap. “It’s just something Alfred said to me yesterday,” he muttered, and Gilbert leaned over the desk in order to hear.

“Vhat did he say?”

_That he’d like to watch me or that I could watch him and I don’t know how to feel about it._

Voice locked inside his throat, Arthur lifted his chin enough to make eye contact with the other man in his office and tried to convey his thoughts that way.

“I can’t read your mind, you know,” the albino commented after they’d been staring at each other for at least a minute.

Arthur sighed and looked away. “I don’t want to say it.”

“Vas it bad?”

“No, it was just…” _Sexual. Arousing. Completely unfair._ “Unsettling.”

His curiosity kicking in, Gilbert braced a hand on the desk and leaned his weight on it. “Unsettling how?”

How should he phrase this?

“Things got sort of intimate yesterday and things were said and I’m not sure how to respond to it.”

That shit-eating grin came back in full force. “Did you shag him?”

“What?” Arthur frowned at the taller male. “No, of course not. Not yet.” The last bit was added in a mumble but Gilbert still heard him.

“Yet. So, intimate, and he said…vhat, exactly?”

Hiding his face in his hands, Arthur could feel the heat in his cheeks. “He said he wouldn’t mind watching me.”

“Vatching you?”

“Or letting me watch him.”

Slowly, understanding bloomed in red eyes, followed by possibly the largest smirk Gilbert had ever had. “Zhat’s kinky, Arzhur.”

“Ugh, I know,” the Brit groaned, letting himself fall forward onto his desk, and buried his face in his arms. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Vell, vould you like it?”

Like, what, being watched? Watching Alfred? Yes. Hell yes. He would. But he didn’t have anything suited for that sort of playing. Which was exactly why he’d been wanting to talk to Gilbert.

“…yes. But I need your help first.”

Gilbert bowed mockingly then grinned at the blond. “At your service.”

X

“Hey, Incubutt! Whaddya want for dinner?” Feliks called from the kitchen, and Alfred rolled his eyes out of habit.

“Don’t care,” he answered, voice raised enough that the other two males sharing the hotel suite would hear him. It would have been easy to get up and go out to actually talk to them, but lounging on his bed was comfortable, and he’d been daydreaming about yesterday’s date with Arthur. He’d especially been thinking about what happened during the movie, though he was careful not got get himself all worked up.

_I can jack off, though,_ he reminded himself. It was something he had to remind himself of, since he wasn’t used to it being a viable option. Masturbating didn’t do anything to ease an incubus’ appetite, but getting horny thinking of Arthur was another story entirely.

Well, if Feliks and Toris were taking care of dinner, then he had enough time for something like that. But what did he want to fantasize about?

Before he could come up with anything, Alfred’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, and there was a second when he wondered who on earth would be texting him other than the Fairie and the Nymph in the kitchen. That was only for a second, though, because then he realized it was probably Arthur, and his lunge was entirely graceless. But he did manage to pick up the phone without knocking anything over or falling to the floor, so he called it a success and opened the message.

_> >What’s your favorite color?_

It wasn’t as exciting of a text as he was hoping for.

_< <Uh, red?_

That was kind of random, but Alfred didn’t let it distract him. He had to come up with a good fantasy.

_Arthur. Think about Arthur. The way he smells. His smile. How his ears turn red when he’s embarrassed. Think about touching him, holding him close, the sounds he made yesterday._

God, the sounds he’d made. Every whimper, every breathy moan had been like icing on the meal of pleasure Alfred had gotten. And the way he’d called out at the end, shouting the American’s name as his body tensed and quivered? Beautiful.

Alfred felt himself growing hard and stood to head to the bathroom, only taking his phone with him as an afterthought. The door was shut and locked just to be safe—Feliks rarely bothered to knock before walking into rooms, and Al definitely didn’t need to be caught jerking off when he wasn’t even remotely hungry. Feeding off Arthur’s orgasm still had him feeling pleasantly full, so this was going to be even better.

“Hmmm,” the bespectacled blond hummed as he glanced around the bathroom. Last time he’d done this, he’d been in the shower. That’d been convenient, but he didn’t need to shower, and he didn’t much feel like stripping down all the way.

Abandoning his phone on the counter near the sink, Alfred moved to stand in front of the rather ornate toilet that occupied one of the bathroom’s corners. He’d just unbuttoned his jeans when that familiar buzzing sounded again, and this time he hesitated before reaching over to pick up the still-vibrating device. Somehow, masturbating to the thought of Arthur while texting Arthur but not telling the Brit what he was doing made him feel sort of guilty.

_> >Do you like strawberries?_

What? Strawberries? That was even more random than asking what his favorite color was.

_< <Yeah, but what's with these questions?_

He didn’t even put the phone down, just stood there with his pants hanging on his hips as he waited for a response. Yeah, he was hard, but without the pressure of his jeans, he could handle it for a little while.

Impatient curiosity made him tap his fingers against the side of the phone.

_> >I’m shopping with Gilbert._

Alfred couldn’t help the look of utter confusion on his face. Shopping with Gilbert? First, he hadn’t taken the albino to be the type of guy to go shopping on a Tuesday evening. Second, if Arthur was shopping, why was he asking these questions? Was he buying things for Alfred?

_< <You'd better not be buying me stuff, Arthur. don't waste your money on me._

_> >I’m not._

_< <Then why ask me about my favorite color and if I like strawberries? What are you shopping for?_

_> >Just a few things. And they’re not just for you, they’re for me, too._

_< <What are you buying????_

_> >You’ll see._

His annoyance at that cryptic answer almost had Alfred throwing his phone against the wall. There he was in his bathroom about to jack off but ignoring his boner because Arthur was acting strange, and the Brit was keeping secrets! He almost wanted to call the green-eyed blond and demand to know what he was buying and why he needed to know Al’s favorite color in order to buy it. If it was something for the both of them then he deserved to know, right?

_No, no, he can buy whatever he wants. It’s not my business. Just let it go._

Sighing, Alfred forced himself to type out his response and sent it before turning his phone on silent so it wouldn’t interrupt him again. Then the device was placed on the counter, and he turned his attention to the task at hand.

Boner. Right.

Even though his lingering frustration made him less interested in taking care of himself, he knew his current state was probably the real cause of his exaggerated emotions. He’d never gotten so worked up over some simple texts, so this was probably the best plan of action. Do this, calm down, then talk to Arthur and figure out what was going on. Yeah. He could do that.

As he relaxed, the American let his mind fill with thoughts of the slender blond he’d become attached to over the last week and a half. Was that all it’d been? Wow. It felt like so much longer than that, but he supposed that was a good thing. Thinking about how little time he’d actually spent with Arthur was weird. He preferred to think it’d been longer than it had been.

No, right, he was focusing. Okay, what did he want to imagine?

_The dressing room. Arthur being jealous over how interested the photographer was. He was helping Al change into his next outfit, and they were kissing. He had the Brit up on the vanity, Arthur’s knees were squeezing his hips as he leaned over him, a hand tangled in golden blond locks to keep him from pulling away._

Slowly, with his eyes closed to keep the image in his mind, Alfred pushed his boxers and jeans down until they pooled around his ankles. One hand was braced against the wall, and he stroked himself with the other. His touches were gentle, at least for now, just until the Arthur in his head decided that wasn’t good enough.

“Artie…” the name left him in a sigh and his shoulders slumped forward, every ounce of focus he had going into the fantasy.

_Hands gripped his hair and teeth caught his lower lip, tugging as Arthur pressed against him. The Brit had lost his shirt at some point, which was unsurprising because Alfred wanted to run his hands all over that pale, slender body. Besides, he was practically naked, anyway, so why shouldn’t Arthur be at least shirtless?_

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” the green-eyed blond growled, lips ghosting across Al’s skin until they found his neck.

“He doesn’t matter.”

_“You’re bloody right he doesn’t.” Arthur busied himself with creating a hickey on the model’s throat, his hand sliding down a muscular torso until he encountered the waistband of Alfred’s current outfit—just a pair of snug-fitting swimshorts. “Time for these to go,” the Brit purred, tugging at the fabric until they slipped down and off. The friction drove a soft groan from Alfred._

“Nn…”

_“Let’s take care of this.”_

_A slim-fingered hand wrapped around his length and Alfred shuddered, hunching forward until he could bite Arthur’s shoulder. The Brit’s touches were gentle for a few seconds, then his grip tightened and he began to pump firmly, until Alfred’s frame shuddered and he choked out sounds past the narrow shoulder he was still biting._

“F-fuck…hah…”

The Arthur in his head was biting and sucking at his ear, had hold of the hair at the nape of his neck as his other hand pumped and stroked and squeezed. Holy shit, he wished it was actually Arthur who was touching him. His imagination was pretty good, but still, it wasn’t as good as Arthur would have been.

“Jesus…Arthur…”

_“I like how your voice cracks.”_

God damn it. Damn it, he was close, he was so close he could feel his legs trembling just from trying to hold himself up. If he’d opened his eyes, he probably wouldn’t have been able to see much. Just a little more…

_“Come on, love,” Arthur whispered, squeezing the taller blond from base to tip, “I want to know what you sound like when you orgasm.”_

_“Fuck! Arthur!”_

His shouts echoed around the bathroom, and even through the bliss of his release, he had a momentary panic that he’d be overheard. When nothing happened—no one came to see why he’d been yelling, at least—he relaxed again and let himself enjoy the pleasure coursing through him.

_“You have a lovely voice.”_

The Arthur in his head was such a fucking tease.

X

Still more embarrassed than he’d been in what he was sure was years, Arthur unlocked the front door of his apartment and led the way inside as Gilbert followed him. The shopping trip had really been a shopping trip, so he’d needed the albino’s help to carry everything. Most of the bags were full of groceries and household products, but there were a few that held more questionable items.

Part of him still couldn’t believe he’d really bought them.

“You know I haven’t been into a store like that since I was sixteen?” he commented as he sat the bags he’d been carrying on the kitchen counter and began to put their contents away.

“Zhat doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“Thanks for going with me, by the way.”

“You’re velcome.”

Together, they unpacked most of the bags and put everything Arthur had purchased away, save for those few questionable bags. Those were taken back into his bedroom, and dumped out on the bed. Arthur could barely stand to look at them; his face was a deep shade or pink and he just knew that Gilbert was smirking.

“Alfred’s a lucky guy.”

Arthur could have punched him. Maybe not in the face, but in the shoulder, at least. Just to get him to shut up. “With my luck, I’ll never end up using any of it.”

“Naw,” Gilbert started sorting through the small pile, separating it out so they could see each item a little better, “I don’t zhink he’ll have a problem getting you to use zhem.”

“Rephrase: with my luck, I’ll never get up the nerve to tell him I bought any of it.”

“I could tell him, if zhat’d be easier.”

Just the thought made Arthur feel slightly sick. “Er, no, thank you. I don’t know that that’d be the best way to do it.”

“Zhen my vote is zhe next time zhings get intimate, you tell him you have a surprise, and you pick somezhing to use. Or let him pick. Use more zhan one. Use zhem all. Vhatever you vant. I don’t zhink he’d mind.”

How on earth could he be so casual about this? It was indecent! And while Arthur was perfectly aware that there was a time in his life when he would have considered these things to be boring, now he wasn’t sure he had the courage to use them. But he’d told Alfred he was shopping with Gilbert, and that what he was buying was for the both of them. The American was sure to ask about it, and he knew himself too well to think he’d be able to brush it off with a lie. Sooner or later, Alfred was going to find out.

“…well, we’ll see,” he finally conceded, then began gathering them up. “For now, I need to find a safe place to put them.”

“Let’s get you a box,” Gilbert suggested, watching.

“A box?”

“ _Ja._ Just a box, vhere you can keep zhings like zhat, and tuck zhem away in your closet or under zhe bed until you need zhem. Zhat vay, zhey’re all in vone place and easy to find.”

For a moment, Arthur considered asking if Gilbert had a box, then he decided he didn’t really want to know.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Until then, in a bag in the back of his closet would have to be good enough.


	25. Chapter 25

It was another dreary, rainy afternoon in London, England. The morning had started off sunny enough, but, unsurprisingly, dark clouds had rolled in and proceeded to fill the city with a misting rain that, slowly but surely, soaked everything. Caught in this dismal weather, Alfred, Toris, and Feliks huddled under an entirely useless umbrella as they made their way along the sidewalk.

“So much for a day of seeing the sights of London,” Al muttered, peering out at the dim gray world he found himself in.

“It was such a nice morning.” Put out, Feliks could only lean into the arm Toris had around his shoulders.

“We’ll think of something else to do,” the brunet assured his lover. “Something fun.”

In the drizzle, the small group stopped long enough to gather their bearings. The city was, in general, unfamiliar to them, but Al at least somewhat recognized the buildings.

“Isn’t this near that restaurant we had lunch at after the photoshoot?”

“The one where you tormented Arthur and made him horny?” Feliks ignored the daggers Alfred glared at him. “Yeah, I think so.”

“It is.” Toris’ attention was on the sign at the corner. “I recognize the street name. Is it time for lunch? We could go there again.”

Glancing at his watch, the shorter blond continued his oblivious ignorance of his companion. “Close enough.” Together, fairie and nymph moved off down the sidewalk as a moody incubus trailed after.

Inside the restaurant was blessedly cool and dry compared to the humid mist of the outdoors. It was almost like stepping into another world, and all three friends visibly relaxed as they moved farther in.

“Hello!”

Three heads turned. Feliks smiled, an expression that Toris and Alfred immediately recognized. Arched eyebrow, cat-like smile, hooded eyes—it was the same bespectacled, buck-toothed boy as the last time they’d visited, and the nymph was clearly pleased to see him.

“Hello.” Abandoning the other two, the green-eyed blond approached the boy and leaned against the greeter’s stand. “Nice to see you again.” He stressed the “you,” and the boy’s smile turned shy.

“Thank you, thir,” the waiter was flustered, which only made Feliks’ smile grow.

“Sir? Mm…I like the sound of that.”

“Feliks,” stepping forward, Toris touched his mate’s shoulder then looked at the embarrassed teen apologetically. “I’m sorry. He just can’t help himself sometimes.” The look he shot the nymph was stern, but Feliks only smiled innocently and kissed the brunet’s cheek.

“I was just having a little fun, Tori. I wasn’t hurting anyone.” Green eyes landed on the boy, hooded again. “He knows I wouldn’t hurt him.” There was no denying the suggestive lilt to his tone.

Still standing a few steps back, Alfred watched Feliks continue to flirt with the waiter as Toris pretended to try to stop him. Eventually, flustered and overwhelmed, the teen led them to a booth by the windows and gave them their menus, and Feliks kept up his game.

“Oh, I, it’th, uh,” the boy looked at his watch then back towards the greeter’s stand, hesitating. “I don’t uthually go until after the lunch ruth.”

Feliks’ lower lip stuck out slightly. “Aw, we’re too early. That’s too bad.”

With his arm around the nymph’s shoulders, Toris smiled reassuringly. “We can come back another day for a late lunch. Then maybe our young friend would be able to join us.”

“Yeah!” Brightening at the suggestion, Feliks sat up straighter. “What days do you work? Or, here,” the blond pulled his cell phone from his bag and tapped the screen a few times, “give me your number and I’ll text you so you can let me know when we can come eat with you.” Expectant green eyes watched the embarrassed surprise that flashed over the waiter’s face.

Rapidly, he blinked, freckles standing out against the red in his face. “…really?” It was hopeful disbelief rather than confusion that raised the pitch of his voice slightly.

“Yes, of course.” Feliks was smoldering now, giving off waves of heat and lust that made Alfred entirely uncomfortable. The incubus in him stirred, sparked hunger at the back of his mind for the first time in days. He was used to Feliks acting this way, since it was a favorite game for him and Toris, but still, it was frustrating.

Tearing his gaze away from the nymph, Alfred held back a low growl.

_Damn it, Fe._

It’d been nearly a week since his last feeding and he’d really hoped he’d be able to go a bit longer. Feeding off Arthur was great, entirely satisfying, but the Brit wasn’t there and now Feliks had triggered his appetite. The damn nymph was sitting two feet away, all of his attention on that poor, awkward teenager, and Toris was eating if up. If things went their way, that boy was going to become their pet for a day, or a week, maybe the rest of summer if they liked him well enough. Alfred really hoped the kid wasn’t a virgin—he’d be completely overwhelmed and essentially helpless compared with the experience and abilities Toris and Feliks had.

Holy hell this was making him hungry. If they kept it up for too much longer, he wouldn’t be able to make it through lunch.

Frowning just slightly, Alfred stepped on Toris’ foot under the table to capture the fairie’s attention. As soon as their eyes met, Alfred knew that Toris understood the situation. All he had to wonder about now was if the brunet would take pity on him or allow Feliks to continue his game.

“Fe,” Toris picked up the blond’s hand and laced his fingers through Feliks’, “you’ve got his number, now let him go back to work before you get him in trouble.”

_Oh, thank whatever gods there are._

Though he pouted a little, Feliks said goodbye to the waiter and promised to text him later in the day. Still flustered by the attention that had been put on him, the bespectacled brunet went back to his greeter’s stand to help a new group of customers that had sought refuge from the weather.

Green eyes turned on Alfred, unhappy. “What gives, Incubutt?”

“You were making me hungry.”

“You could’ve taken him to the bathroom for a snack.”

Alfred rolled his eyes at the suggestion. “Or I could not cheat on my boyfriend.”

“Is it cheating if it’s purely for food?”

“Yes.”

Feliks looked like he wanted to argue with him over it but Alfred stared at him until the nymph huffed in defeat.

“Fine. Sorry.”

The three were quiet for over a minute, their attention focused on the menus they’d been given, and Alfred tried in vain to quell the hunger Feliks had incidentally started. He didn’t really know why he was bothering. In all his years as an incubus, calming himself down and ignoring his hunger never worked for anything other than putting it off for a little while. He was going to have to feed when they got back to the hotel, and he needed a distraction until then.

Without having picked anything off the menu, Al pulled his phone from his pocket, paused just long enough to decide what he wanted to say, then tapped out a text and hit Send. He probably wasn’t going to get a response right away, but that didn’t matter. Just knowing he would, at some point today, be making plans to see Arthur again would help distract him.

“Who’re you texting?”

The question had Alfred lifting his head, his mouth already open to answer, until he saw the knowing looks on his companions’ faces. Immediately, he scowled. “Ha ha.” Feliks laughed and Toris gave a soft chuckle.

“How’s Arthur doing?” It was a genuine question this time, but Alfred kept his scowl in place.

“I assume he’s good.”

“Why only assume?’

“’Cause I haven’t heard from him yet today.”

“Oh.”

Feliks wasn’t satisfied with that exchange. “Are you seeing him again soon?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

Still not satisfied, Feliks sighed and slumped in his part of the booth, arms folded over his chest. “You two need to, like, get a move on.”

Alfred rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you think I should do.”

“Claim him as your mate.”

“We’ve been over this, Fe,” the bespectacled blond sighed, dropping his chin to his collarbone. I’m not gonna do that to him. Becoming a mythical sucks, and what if he’s not even my mate? I’d just be ruining his life for nothing.”

“It wouldn’t ruin his life to not be human anymore.”

Scoffing, Alfred looked out the window rather than at Feliks and Toris. “Wanna bet?”

The other two exchanged looks but didn’t say anything, and Al kept talking. “I’d rather just date him for a while and be happy with that than change him. He deserves better than me, you know? Better than someone’ who’ll use him for food and can’t…really…be with him…” Trailing off, he swallowed and breathed deep through his nose, held it for a few seconds, then let it go. His emotions were getting the better of him and that really wasn’t what he wanted right now. Not in public, not in front of Tor and Liks. It was just that he hadn’t let himself think about it before, what would happen if he had Arthur and lost him or had to let him go because of what he was. Sure, he’d argued with himself about why he shouldn’t get involved with the Brit in the first place, but he’d clearly ignored his own advice. Losing him now, after taking the risk, would be even worse.

Well, at least he wasn’t so hungry anymore.

“How are things going with him?” Toris asked, breaking the silence that had fallen when Alfred stopped talking. The genuine interest in his tone was the only thing that made Alfred answer with more than a shrug.

“All right. He apparently bought some stuff for us, but he won’t tell me what.” He was relaxed again, not as much as he’d like to have been, but more than he was a moment ago. “He needed to know my favorite color.”

“Really?” No longer put off by Alfred’s sudden bad mood, Feliks leaned forward across the table, his eyes lit with keen interest. “I bet it’s something sexy.”

“What? No.” Alfred immediately dismissed the idea, for his own sake more than anything. Imagining what sort of sexy things Arthur might’ve bought definitely wouldn’t help keep his appetite under control, so he didn’t let himself. “Arthur’s too reserved for that.” That was a lie and they all knew it, but Al said it anyway.

“Just you wait, Incubutt.” Smug, Feliks went back to surveying his menu. “That British boyfriend of yours is going to blow your sex-demon mind.”

“You’re not helping,” Alfred growled, eyes narrowed behind his glasses. One of Feliks’ slim shoulders lifted in a noncommittal shrug.

_Asshole._

Leave it to a nymph to make things worse.

Annoyed and still hungry, Alfred looked over his menu with little actual interest. This wasn’t what he was hungry for, but he’d still get something. With a metabolism like his, he had to eat. Unfortunately, nothing looked at all appetizing. All he wanted right now was Arthur.

_Damn it…_

His annoyance turned into frustration and Alfred sighed heavily. This was fucking ridiculous. What was he? Some two-hundred-year-old incubus, infatuated with a human to the point of being pathetic. Yeah. Pathetic.

Wow he really couldn’t decide what he wanted.

“Fe,” he dropped the menu on the tabletop, “order for me.”

“Mmkay.”

The nymph was a little too comfortable with leading his friend’s life. Still, it let Alfred relax a little, and he took the opportunity to check his phone. No reply from Arthur yet—he must have his lunch break a little later. They were eating kind of early, anyway.

Busy staring out the window as the drizzle became rain, Al didn’t fully notice when a waiter came to their table to take their orders. Since he’d given control of his meal to Feliks, it didn’t particularly matter, and he didn’t pay any more attention once the waiter left again. He was so focused on watching the water droplets gather and slide down the glass that his phone buzzed, and he didn’t register it for over a minute. But the thought that he should check it nagged at him until he tore his gaze from the window and clicked his phone to life.

Arthur had responded.

_> >No, but I’ll wager you’ve got something in mind._

Alfred didn’t even try to keep from smiling.

_< <You know me so well. Lunch break?_

_> >Yes. Are you going to tell me what you want to do this weekend?_

_< <Maybe._

_> >Is it a surprise?_

Well, no, he hadn’t planned it to be, but it sounded like a fantastic idea now that the thought about it. Corny and cliché, definitely, but also really, really fantastic.

_< <Yep!_

_> >Why do I feel like your surprises can only lead to trouble?_

_< <That's hurtful, Artie._

He could imagine the look on Arthur’s face, how he’d raise those bushy eyebrows of his then smile a little, shake his head or roll his eyes or both before replying. It was just a shame he didn’t actually get to see it.

_> >Hasn’t anyone ever told you that the truth can hurt?_

_< <Hey, if you're not nice to me then I don't have to take you on the incredibly romantic date I have planned._

_> >I don’t believe that for a second._

_< <Why not?_

_> >Because I also get the feeling that you want the opportunity to prove what an excellent boyfriend you are._

_< <Naw, I don't have to prove that._

_> >No? What a shame._

Wait, what? Shame? What shame?

_< <What's that supposed to mean?_

_> >Nothing, nothing._

_Oh, that little…_

He was doing this on purpose just to try to throw Alfred off. Unfortunately for the blue-eyed blond, it was working.

“Something wrong?”

“What?” Distracted, he only half-glanced at the men across the table from him.

“You were grinning a second ago and now you look worried. Is it Arthur? Did something happen?” Toris was concerned and Alfred shook his head, frowning at his phone.

“He’s teasing me.”

The brunet’s expression turned to mildly surprised amusement. “Oh. I see.”

“Yeah.” But his focus was entirely back on his phone now. What did Arthur mean? What was a shame? That he wasn’t showing himself off as the perfect boyfriend? He could do that, he supposed, if he really wanted to. If Arthur wanted him to.

_< <So are we on for Saturday?_

He wanted to snark at Arthur for acting pretentious but didn’t let himself. It would probably have started a fight or something, and he just knew the Brit would call him immature or childish or something along those lines. Ignoring the teasing entirely was a much better idea.

_> >I suppose so. Is it ever going to be my turn to plan one of our dates?_

_< <You can plan one whenever you want._

_> >Really? Hm. I’ll have to come up with something good._

_< <You do that_

_> >Are you sure you aren’t going to tell me what you’ve got planned for Saturday?_

_< <100%_

_> >I suppose I can wait and see, then._

_< <Yeah, but I don’t wanna wait until Saturday to see you._

_> >Then come have lunch with me tomorrow._

Tomorrow? Lunch? It was sooner than he’d expected but that was definitely a good thing. He’d mostly thought that Arthur would tell him he was just going to have to wait for the weekend. Meeting the golden blond for lunch was a great idea.

_< <I'd love to._

_> >Good. I’ll send you the name and address of the café. Meet me there at 12:15 tomorrow._

_< <You got it!_

“He’s smiling again,” Feliks commented.

With his arm around his mate’s shoulders, Toris watched Alfred interestedly. “Arthur must have stopped teasing him.”

“I’m having lunch with him tomorrow.” Victorious, the blue-eyed blond set his phone down and grinned at his companions. “And we’re going on a date this Saturday.”

To his and Toris’ surprise, Feliks’ face fell and the nymph sighed in defeat.

“What?”

“There goes the shoot I wanted you to go to.”

Any concern he’d felt for the nymph evaporated and Alfred raised an eyebrow. “When were you gonna tell me about that?”

“Saturday.”

“So you were just gonna wake me up and talk me into it like last time.”

“I was going to let you bring Arthur again!”

Okay, having the Brit along would’ve made it better, but that didn’t change the fact that Alfred sort of hated when Feliks sprang things on him like that. “No deal. I’m taking him on a date. You’ll just have to go to the shoot without me and check out the competition, or whatever it is you do at those things.”

Feliks was starting to pout. “That’s nowhere near as fun as putting you in the shoot.”

“Well, that’s too damn bad, Fe. I’m not going.”

“As your boss, I could make you go.”

“Or I could just quit being your dress-up doll.”

The two blonds stared at each other in a silent war, until Toris shifted closer to his lover and whispered into his ear. Immediately, Feliks’ expression lightened and he nodded.

“Okay. You’re off the hook, Incubutt. Tori’s got something better than a shoot.”

Thanks to his acute hearing, Alfred had caught most of that, and he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that Toris had taken that approach to get Feliks to give up. “Good.” So he was still kind of hungry, but he was in a great mood compared to the rest of the day so far. Hopefully, the weather would be clear this weekend, but it wouldn’t be terrible if it rained—the date he had planned would work out either way. And he was going to have lunch with Arthur tomorrow. Things were working out better than he’d expected.


	26. Chapter 26

Face lifted towards the sun, Arthur enjoyed the day’s warm weather as he walked. Unlike yesterday, today so far was sunny and warm, kept pleasant by a cool wind that promised there would be more rain later in the week. Arthur still didn’t know what Alfred had planned for Saturday, but he hoped whatever weather blew in wouldn’t disrupt the American’s plans.

Well, if it did, then they could always stay in and watch another movie, maybe a really romantic one, and they could flirt the whole time. If _Love Actually_ was enough to get them to oral sex then an actual romance was almost guaranteed to get them shagging. Maybe Arthur would put some of his latest purchases to use.

Ah, hell, the more he thought about it, the more he began to hope it would rain. It’d make Alfred sad, but Arthur was confident he’d be able to cheer him up. He could imagine it so easily—the phone call he’d receive on Saturday morning, Alfred’s tone disappointed as he apologized for having to cancel their plans. Arthur pretending to be upset then inviting the American over for a movie and brunch, maybe drinks later if they felt like it. They could cook together, as long as Arthur’s imagination didn’t run away with him. Or it could snatch them both, and brunch could wait until after they’d finished desecrating his kitchen. Maybe they’d settle for toast and eggs and sit on the floor to eat, practically naked and cuddling for warmth.

Arthur would be more than happy to spend Saturday like that. Imagining it was so easy, but he tried to remind himself that he’d enjoy whatever Alfred had planned, too. How could he not? The American was perfect, and Saturday would be great either way. If he didn’t get his kitchen sex on Saturday then he could always invite his bespectacled boyfriend over sometime next week. But what day would be best?

Musing, Arthur was on auto pilot as he reached the café and found his usual table. He was such a regular that he didn’t even wonder if someone else might be sitting there—it was his table, and everyone knew it. So he settled in, knowing that his tea would be brought out to him in a minute so he could drink while he decided what to order. But as he picked up the menu and looked it over, the golden blond’s thoughts were nowhere near his lunch. He was still too busy thinking about the American he was so infatuated with, who should be arriving in—green eyes found the face of his watch—less than a minute.

There was barely enough time for him to wonder if his boyfriend would be late before the familiar dull roar of a motorcycle invaded upon the calm chatter of the lunch-goers. Several heads turned, including Arthur’s and within seconds, the star-spangled bike appeared, rolling slowly with Alfred astride it as if he’d been born to sit nowhere else than on that leather seat. The American’s visor was up so he could easily see the names of the shops, blue eyes searching. Amused, Arthur waited to be seen, only waving when Alfred stopped, took his helmet off, and grinned.

Completely oblivious to the stares he and his bike were receiving, the bespectacled blond parked at the curb and swung his leg over and off. He left the bike leaning heavily on its kickstand and wound his way between tables, helmet under his arm, towards Arthur.

“Hey.”

The golden blond stood and slipped his arms around the taller male’s waist, kissing his cheek in greeting as Alfred returned the embrace. “Good afternoon.” He drew back to find a wide grin on Alfred’s face, and arched an eyebrow in amusement. “Yes?”

“Nothin’.” Their slight difference in height meant the American barely had to do anything in order to press his lips to Arthur’s in a proper greeting. “Mm...” the taller pulled away and grinned again, “afternoon.”

Arthur rolled his eyes as his hand found Alfred’s. “Had to kiss me in public, didn’t you.”

They sat, facing each other, hands still connected on the tabletop and knees touching underneath.

“’Course. Now anyone who was thinking about hitting on you knows you’re not available.”

“That’s rather territorial of you.”

One of Alfred’s eyebrows lifted as he smiled. “Isn’t it my right to let everyone know that we’re dating?”

Humming thoughtfully, Arthur stirred his tea then took a drink, green eyes watching the other blond over the rim of his cup. Alfred leaned his elbows on the table, grin bordering on a smirk firmly in place as he waited. The cup was lowered, a pale hand wrapped round it to absorb the warmth seeping through the china.

“I suppose it is.”

There was no stopping Alfred’s grin. “See? Besides, lots of people like territorial partners. Makes them feel wanted.”

“What makes you think I’m one of those people?”

In the blink of an eye, Alfred went from smug to sly, and Arthur knew he’d just dug himself a grave.

“I think you’re a perfect example of that type of person, Artie,” the American crooned, leaning forward, his voice rolling and tumbling across the small table so it could seep into him, warm and honeyed and dangerous. “I think you’re proud of the fact that we’re dating, and I think you’re even more possessive than I am.”

Oh, god, he couldn’t be seduced in broad daylight like this! Who in heaven and earth had decided that the blond sitting across from him should be so irresistible without even trying? How was it possible for him to sit there looking like sex incarnate and speak as if his voice alone could bring a man to climax? It probably could, but now wasn’t an appropriate time to find out, not in public, not with the sly, knowing way Alfred was looking at him.

He was going to embarrass himself if he didn’t get a grip.

Straightening, the Brit squared his shoulders and took a long drink of his tea. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re a bad liar, Artie.”

“I’m not lying, Alfred.”

“Oh.” His tone was lighter now, his expression innocent. “So you didn’t mind the photographer being interested in me.”

_Shit._

Alfred played with the lid on the little jar of sugar set on the table, musing, twisting it this way and that as his blue eyes examined the way it sat perfectly in the space provided for it. “Could’ve sworn that bothered you. Or were you acting all jealous and possessive for a different reason? Was it because of the shorts? Did my outfits get you all riled up?” Those eyes flashed to Arthur’s face, mischievous, accompanied by the hints of a grin lurking at the corners of Alfred’s mouth.

The tension in Arthur’s shoulders was obvious as he refused to meet the other man’s gaze. It was entirely unfair of him to bring up the photoshoot. Of course Arthur had been jealous. Someone else had been about to try for his boyfriend. Was he not supposed to care? And as for the outfits—if those skintight bits of cloth could even be called outfits—well, he’d definitely appreciated them. The problem was that Alfred knew it.

Defeat. There was no denying it, no trying to talk his way out of it.

All at once, the golden blond’s shoulders sagged and he let out a heavy breath, green eyes looking at Alfred through barely-there eyelashes. “Fine. I like that you’re possessive. Happy?”

If ever there was a perfect example of the word “smug,” it was Alfred as he lounged in his chair, one arm thrown over the back and his left ankle resting atop his right knee as he grinned. “More than.”

_Handsome bastard._

It really was unfair. How could he sit there like that as if the gods themselves had crafted him and sent him to earth for no other reason but to be like a god himself? He made Arthur feel so inadequate, and the only thing the Brit could do to hide it was roll his eyes and huff and look away, sip his tea while countless strangers wandered past on the nearby street.

“So,” Alfred’s voice drew Arthur’s gaze back to him, “are we still going out on Saturday morning?”

“Yes, unless the weather turns sour.”

“Mm, yeah, rain would sort of ruin it.”

“Well,” carefully, Arthur set down his cup and too-casually looked the American in the eyes, “you’re welcome to come to my place on Saturday if your surprise is ruined by the weather.”

There were so many possible ways to respond to that. Alfred could feel the ulterior motive behind that offer, could feel the attraction between himself and the other blond and the almost-arousal Arthur was currently experiencing. If he went to the Brit’s apartment on Saturday morning instead of taking him on the secret date he had planned, he had a pretty good idea of how they’d spend the day, and he was also pretty sure he wouldn’t mind at all. But the date he had planned was going to be a lot of fun, so he still didn’t want the weather to go bad. If it did, they’d have to wait a full work week to be able to go, since it was a morning date and Arthur’s shifts were during the day. He really wanted to go tomorrow, but if the weather made them wait, going to the Briton’s wouldn’t be a bad alternative. So he smiled and nodded.

“Sounds good.”

Both smiling, they looked at each other, and Alfred laced his fingers through Arthur’s.

“Are you going to tell me or is it still going to be a surprise?”

Alfred grinned and Arthur half expected him to wink. “Still a surprise.”

“Thought so.”

Green eyes glanced over when the same waiter as usual—Collin—came to take Arthur’s order, and the golden blond sat back in his chair as if he meant to pull away from Alfred. The American’s grip tightened on his hand, however, stopping him, and Arthur tried to look annoyed but failed.

“Company today, Arthur?” the waiter asked, smiling politely, brown-eyed gaze falling on Alfred. He was tall and narrow, shoulders straight, nametag neatly pinned to a white button up shirt tucked into black pants behind a blue pocketed half apron. Good-looking, all-in-all, but a bit young—his limbs were still too long for his body, though the uniform helped hide that. Arthur had always thought he had a lot of potential, and was rather proud of the fact that he was no longer the lonely patron Collin must have imagined he was.

“Yes, this is Alfred Jones.”

“Hi.” That grin appeared and Arthur was surprised when the waiter didn’t even seem to notice . “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Sir. Do you know what you’ll be ordering today?” Eyes shifting from one blond to the other and back, his pen was at the ready, little pad of paper in hand.

After taking a drink of his tea to give Alfred time to order if he was ready, Arthur set the cup down with a soft _clink_ and smiled. “I’ll have the fish and chips, Collin, as usual.”

The teen scribbled it down then turned his attention to Alfred. “And for you, Sir?”

“I’ll have whatever special you’re offering today.”

“Very,” Collin drew the word out as he wrote, “good. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Just a glass of water.”

Smiling, the waiter tucked his notepad and pen into one of his apron pockets. “I’ll be right back with that for you.”

“Thank you.”

Then he turned and was gone, winding his way through the tables back inside the café to fetch Alfred’s water and turn their orders into the chef.

“He was nice,” Alfred commented off-handedly, offering a slight smile to Arthur.

“He usually is.”

Silence fell over their small table, not uncomfortable, and stayed there until Collin returned with a glass of water then vanished inside again.

“So,” his empty tea cup was pushed aside and Arthur rested his elbows on the table top, chin propped in the palm of his hand, “can I guess what we’ll we doing on Saturday?”

Mirroring him, Alfred grinned. “Go ahead.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes in thought, fingers idly rubbing the back of Alfred’s hand. “The theme park.”

“Nope.”

“Dinner and a movie.”

“Nope.”

“Another picnic.”

“Closer.”

Closer. “Is a picnic involved or is the date similar to a picnic?”

“Involved.” 

“Hm.” Arthur drummed his fingers thoughtfully against the back of Alfred’s hand, eyes rolling upwards. A date that involved a picnic. “Are we going to the park?”

“Nope.” The ash blond was grinning widely now, clearly pleased with himself for whatever he had planned that Arthur hadn’t managed to guess yet.

Mostly unnoticed, Collin appeared to refill Arthur’s tea and disappeared without comment.

Arthur sighed eventually then gave Alfred a rueful smile. “Fine. You win.”

The grin appeared without surprise or hesitation—Alfred hadn’t even been worried his plans would be ruined.

“It’s gonna be great, Artie. Trust me.”

“I feel like that’s something people say right before everything goes wrong.”

“Naw,” Alfred waved his hand as if to shoo that idea away, “it’s not dangerous or anything like that.”

His skepticism was obvious as Arthur drank his cooling tea, but he didn’t say anything else. There wouldn’t be any point—Alfred would counter any arguments Arthur could make. So he drank his tea and looked out at the street to watch the people passing by. It wouldn’t be much longer before Collin came back with their meal, and then they’d be too busy eating to do much talking. Besides, it was a beautiful day and there was nothing wrong with a quiet lunch. He had Alfred’s hand in his, and that was enough for him.

X

Bellies still full, Alfred and Arthur walked hand-in-hand towards the bank. Arthur’s lunch break was almost over, which meant he had to get back to work. Alfred, however, had opted to walk the golden blond back so they could spend a little more time together. It was a scenario that Arthur found overly cute and that Alfred was genuinely proud of. They weren’t talking, were just enjoying each other’s company as they walked, hand-in-hand. Occasionally, one would glace over to find the other was already watching him, then they would both smile, a little embarrassed, squeeze their hands, and continue down the sidewalk until it happened again. By the time they arrived at the bank, it’d happened at least a dozen times.

“Well, I guess I’d better go.”

“Yeah.”

They looked at each other, still holding hands, both entirely unwilling to part ways.

“I’ll pick you up at ten.”

“All right.”

Neither blond moved for a few seconds, then Alfred sighed and shook his head.

“This is impossible.”

“What is?”

“You are.” The American gestured at Arthur with his free hand, earning a confused stare. “How am I supposed to leave when I don’t even want to let go of your hand?”

Slowly, a blush crept into Arthur cheeks, and he looked away shyly. “Sweet-talker.”

Alfred chuckled and ran his thumb over Arthur’s finger. “I mean it.”

Green eyes lifted to peer at him through golden bangs, then Arthur smiled and stepped closer. “Then I guess you’ll just have to control yourself until morning.”

“I guess.” He was so distracted that Alfred almost didn’t remember to respond. Arthur was close enough to kiss. Not kissing him right now was torture.

“So,” god damn it he was coming even closer, “you’ll just have to be satisfied with this for now.”

Before Alfred even had the chance to wonder what he was supposed to be satisfied with, Arthur pressed against him, leaned up the short distance, and kissed him. Immediately, his arm came up to wrap around the Brit’s middle and hold him there. Alfred’s held tilted to make it easier to kiss back; he wasn’t about to pull away.

But, unfortunately, Arthur did. The golden blond stepped back, easily breaking free of the loose hold Alfred’s arm had on him, and started backing towards the bank’s steps. “See you in the morning.”

It was in those few seconds that Alfred had an idea. It was an impulsive and potentially clumsy idea that might end with a bruise or bloody nose, but if it worked it would be the best way to say goodbye to the British banker he liked so much. The risk of a bruise or bloodied nose really wasn’t enough to discourage him.

So, while Arthur’s pale fingers were still in his grasp, Alfred tightened his hold on the shorter blond and gently pulled him back, swinging him around until they were chest-to-chest. His other hand buried itself in the Briton’s hair and he caught the flash of surprised green eyes before he tilted his head and leaned down to capture Arthur’s lips in another kiss. Hungrily, he caught Arthur’s lip in his teeth before invading the smaller male’s mouth. A startled gasp followed by a small, breathy moan gave him utter control as he pulled Arthur into the curve of his own body and kissed him until the green-eyed male was struggling for breath.

“A-Alfred…” Arthur was panting when he finally managed to pull away, cheeks flushed pink and lower lip shining where a bit of saliva had stuck.

A little breathless himself but not nearly as much as Arthur was, Alfred grinned and pressed his forehead to the other male’s. “I wanted to say goodbye properly.”

“You git. Now I really don’t want you to leave.”

Eyebrows lifting playfully, the taller blond placed his hands on the dip of Arthur’s back and pulled him close again. “Office sex?”

Arthur’s cheeks flushed darker and he pushed at Alfred’s chest until a safe few inches separated them. “Not on your life.”

“Awww, you’re no fun, Artie.”

“If we didn’t have sex in your dressing room, then we’re not having sex in my office.”

“Oh, so we should’ve worked in a quickie between outfits?”

“No.”

“Buzz-kill.”

Stubbornly, Arthur extricated himself from Alfred and began walking up the steps to the bank. “I’ll see you in the morning, Alfred.”

Grin in place, the American watched his embarrassed—and slightly aroused—boyfriend walk away and disappear into the bank. He could still taste the Brit on his tongue and hoped it would last for most of the rest of the day. His next opportunity to taste him was over twelve hours away, after all, and that seemed far too long to be fair. But he’d gotten a satisfactory kiss out of him, and he was just going to have to be satisfied, as Arthur had said.

It was nearly another minute before Alfred moved, turning and walking back the way they’d come to get his motorcycle and head back to the hotel. His date with Arthur may not be until morning, but he wasn’t going to waste any time in getting ready. He wanted it to be perfect.


	27. Chapter 27

Chin resting in hand, Alfred sat by the window of the hotel suite’s living room and sighed heavily. The skies outside were a sullen, angry, black-mottled gray, and the ground was wet with the light rain that continued to fall. Lightning flashed in the distance, attracting Al’s attention, and the following rumble of thunder put creases in his forehead. Another sigh left him—at this rate, his plans for taking Arthur on a date would have to be postponed.

_At least he invited me to his place._

It was a comforting thought. If they spent the day together at Arthur’s apartment, it was almost guaranteed they’d end up in bed.

_Or the couch, maybe the kitchen counter._

That, at least, would be more than worth postponing for, but still. He’d already packed and didn’t want his efforts to go to waste.

The rain drops _tink_ ed against the window pane as he sat and stared and thought. If it picked up too much, his plans would end up with them wet and cold and miserable, and if the lightning got too close, well…Alfred shuddered just to think about it and quickly guided his mind elsewhere. Sure, the weather could ruin it, but if it kept to light drizzles, it would be really nice to be surrounded by the sounds and smells.

Alfred’s third sigh was absent-mindedly happy. It would be so nice to sit with Arthur and watch the rain…

Imagining it was enough to convince the blond to get up and start gathering the supplies he’d prepared. Rain or shine, he was taking Arthur on this date.

“Feliks!” Head in the fridge, Alfred deafened himself by shouting. “What’d you do with my food?” If the blond nymph had eaten it after promising not to, then—

“It’s in the oven, Incubutt. You’re welcome.”

Straightening and nearly hitting his head in the process, Alfred finally noticed that the oven was on low. The food he’d prepared last night was visible through the glass front of the door, safely packed and being warmed.

“When’d you do this?”

“An hour ago.” Feliks was smug when he appeared and leaned against the wall behind his crouching friend. “It should be ready to go, just don’t burn yourself.”

Alfred looked at the other blond for a moment. “It was Toris’ idea, wasn’t it.”

Immediately offended, Feliks’ jaw dropped and he huffed before walking away. “Ungrateful asshole!”

“Tell Tor I said thanks!” Alfred called after the nymph, grinning. He didn’t really know which of his friends had thought to warm up his food, but Feliks would pass his thanks on to Toris or keep them for himself, so it didn’t particularly matter. All Alfred cared about was that he was going to be on time to pick Arthur up for their date.

X

“He can’t be serious. Did he even think to check the weather?”

Frowning to himself, Arthur paced his kitchen then paused to look out his window yet again. The rain almost seemed to mock him from the other side of the glass, promising to make him cold and uncomfortable as soon as he stepped out his door. No part of him wanted it, yet Alfred was on his way to pick him up and take him on this mystery date he’d been planning.

Arthur shook his head and resumed his pacing. “It’s mad, going out in weather like this. I won’t do it. He’ll just have to wait for a sunny day.”

As firm as he was saying it to himself, he knew saying it to Alfred would be a different story entirely. Those blue eyes would look at him so sadly that he’d have no choice.

_It doesn’t matter how he looks at me. I’m not going out in that rain. It’s a disaster waiting to happen._

Still, he wasn’t at all looking forward to having to refuse the American. Arthur fretted and fussed around his kitchen, tidying up messes that weren’t really there and straightening already-straight utensils. Why on earth was he so nervous? It wasn’t his fault the weather had turned sour overnight. Alfred was just going to have to accept it, and besides, Arthur would cheer him up somehow. They could have hot cocoa and snuggle on the couch and watch a long, romantic movie. Then they could stay on the couch for a bit, and kiss, and Arthur would tell him to wait for a couple of minutes and go into his bedroom to change into what he’d bought with Gilbert. Then Alfred would come to find him, and Arthur would kiss the American with everything he had. They’d find their way to bed somehow, Alfred’s clothes would vanish, he’d leave little marks all over Arthur’s body to claim the Brit for his own and then, only when Arthur begged him, Alfred would remove what little clothing he had and—

A sudden roar drowned out the rain and Arthur jumped, ripped out of his daydream. It was a few seconds before he realized he’d imagined all of that and hadn’t actually seen Alfred yet, and then his embarrassment at having thought it made him glad he was alone. He couldn’t bring himself to wonder what Alfred would say if he caught Arthur fantasizing about him.

God, no, that could _not_ happen.

Still deeply embarrassed, Arthur busied himself with refolding the towel draped over the edge of his sink in order to give himself a chance to calm down. Thoughts like those were dangerous at best; he needed to be more careful with how his mind wandered.

Arthur’s hands smoothed the towel out then stilled, his eyes staring into the sink without seeing it. Embarrassing, sure, but…it would be a nice way to spend the afternoon. Better than going out in the rain, at least. And why should he be embarrassed, anyway? He was a grown man and so was Alfred, fantasizing about his boyfriend was normal.

“I’m not embarrassed,” the golden blond said softly, almost as if he were informing the sink he was still staring at. “He’s my boyfriend and I’m not embarrassed to want to make love with him.”

It wasn’t entirely true, but Arthur meant it as much as he could. He wasn’t embarrassed to want the American, just shy about expressing it. Yes, that was the proper word.

Shy.

“I’m not as brave as I used to be.” Turning, Arthur leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, a breath leaving him. “I’m not the man I wanted to be.”

Before he had time to think about that in any depth, eager knocks sounded at the door and Arthur realized the roar that’d startled him must have been Alfred’s motorcycle.

_That lunatic is driving it in the rain?_

Expression stern, Arthur crossed the kitchen and pulled his front door open and immediately began to lecture the blue-eyed blond on his front stoop. “Alfred, you should know it’s da—ah!”

To his surprise, the Briton found hands on his hips, yanking him forward so his chest was pressed against Alfred’s slightly damp one. Blue eyes smiled down at him from that handsome face, completely unperturbed by the other man’s alarmed expression.

“You talk too much,” the model teased as he leaned and kissed the smaller male.

As indignant as he was, and despite his interrupted scolding, Arthur took less than a second to wrap his arms around Alfred’s neck and return the kiss. They moved farther into the apartment without separating, Alfred kicking the door shut behind them to muffle the sounds of the rain. His fingers slid around to the small of Arthurs back and rubbed as if they meant to pass straight through the layers of fabric separating them from the Brit’s skin.

“Mm…git…”

The breathy insult only made Alfred laugh as he pulled away from the shorter blond and grinned down at him. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Artie.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and gave the American a quick kiss before he stepped back out of Alfred’s arms. “It was a clever way of trying to distract me, but I’m not interested in going out in that weather.”

“Aww, but Artie, I have everything ready to go!”

“Alfred, it’s pouring.”

“It’s not that bad. Come on.”

“No. I’m not riding your motorcycle through a storm. We’ll be soaked to the bone and catch our deaths.”

“We will not. I have parkas and an umbrella.” Alfred smiled charmingly and pulled Arthur close again, looking straight into the golden blond’s eyes. “Come on, Artie,” he murmured, swaying them just slightly, “don’t you want to know what I’ve been planning?”

Damn that stupid bloody smile and those stupid blue eyes. Alfred was a git whose only purpose was to torture Arthur at every possible opportunity, he was sure of it. There was no other reason for such a perfect man to exist.

They stared at each other for a few moments, Alfred’s expression stuck somewhere between puppy eyes and irresistible charm, until Arthur sighed and hung his head.

“Fine. But you owe me.”

“Yes!” The bespectacled blond’s enthusiasm did little to reassure his boyfriend. “You won’t regret it, Artie! It’ll be great, I promise!” Unzipping his jacket, he produced two tarp-like items that he shook out and presented to Arthur. “Here, put this on over your clothes.”

Lips slightly pursed, Arthur took one of them and held it at arm’s length, scrutinizing it. Was this some sort of parka? It was heavier than any parka he’d ever seen. Weren’t they usually made of thin plastic? Why did this one feel like leather? Eh, it was probably just sturdier for motorcyclists. Arthur shrugged and found the opening in the bottom, lifting it over his head and letting gravity pull the entire thing down over most of his body. The weight of it pressed down on his shoulders, promising that it wouldn’t go anywhere while they were driving through the rain; the bottom edge was below his knees.

Alfred grinned, more than comfortable in his own heavy duty parka. “Told ya we won’t be soaked.”

Arthur shook his head and sighed quietly before slipping his hand into Alfred’s. “Let’s just go on this mystery date of yours.”

“You got it!”

Eager, the blue-eyed blond pulled at Arthur’s hand, leading him back towards the front door and out into the rain that continued to fall. Down the few steps to the sidewalk and to the bike before Alfred stopped, picked up the helmet he’d brought along for Arthur, turned, and grinned. “Put your hood up.” He reached and tugged the parka’s hood up over Arthur’s head before the Brit could even move, then helped him put the helmet on over it. “It’ll keep it up, you’ll stay pretty dry. I probably should’ve told you to wear a scarf.”

“Well,” Arthur’s voice sounded muffled to him, thanks to the parka and helmet, “you pulled me out here too fast for me to lock the door, so I can go inside and get one. Do you want to borrow one?”

“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

Feeling awkward and heavy in his gear, Arthur made the trip back up the steps to his apartment. The light rain left water beaded on his parka and dripping as he walked—he really hoped it wouldn’t puddle on his floor and damage it. So he was quick to pull two of his thicker scarves from the hall closet then stepped back onto the entryway rug, checked that there wasn’t too much water on the floor, and backed outside, pulling the door shut as he did. His keys jingled in the lock, barely louder than the sound of millions of tiny drops of water hitting the street and buildings, then he was done the steps and on the back of Al’s motorcycle, his parka tucked underneath him to keep it from flapping in the wind and letting water underneath.

“Here,” he handed one of the scarves to the taller blond then set about tucking the other around his neck and under the hood of his parka, smoothing the extra up under his helmet to keep his nose and ears warm. “Ready!”

“Hold on.”

As always, Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred’s middle and propped his feet up as the American brought the bike to life and moved away from the curb, his helmeted head tucked against Al’s shoulder. He could barely hear the rain at all over the sounds of the bike, and was surprisingly warm inside his parka—he’d expected it to be a much colder ride, but it seemed like Alfred really had been prepared, and as they drove through the city streets, Arthur wondered why he’d ever bothered to think otherwise.

The parkas did a wonderful job of keeping Alfred and Arthur dry and warm as they drove. Arthur had thought the wind would chill him to the bone even if the rain couldn’t reach him, but even it was powerless against the thick fabric. So, despite the weather, the golden blond was smiling as he hugged close to Alfred’s back and watched the countryside pass by.

It’d surprised him when they’d left London, mostly because he hadn’t expected someone like Alfred to want to leave behind the lights and sounds of the city. But the English country was beautiful, even with such dreary weather, and being surprised already only made Arthur even more curious about what else the American had planned. He’d said a picnic was involved, hadn’t he? A country picnic? That sounded like fun, or at least, it would be if it wasn’t raining. The parkas made the ride bearable, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to sit on a damp blanket on soggy grass and mud while it rained and try to pretend he was having a good time. As much as he wanted this date to go well and wanted to make Alfred happy, this might be a little much for him.

_Please don’t ask me to do that. Please have something else planned, or at least be prepared._

If he could have, Arthur would’ve leaned back enough to actually look at the other man, but he was hugging too close to Alfred’s back, and the ash blond was wearing a helmet, anyway. There was no point in looking if he wouldn’t even be able to see his face.

_I’m going to kiss him as soon as we stop._

That unfortunately, wasn’t for another half an hour, at least, and by then Arthur was starting to lose feeling in his legs. Mostly because he’d been sitting the same way for so long, but also from the cold, in part. The parka only went to just below his knees, after all, so his shins and feet were mostly exposed. His shoes were water-proof, but his trousers were another matter entirely. If they weren’t careful, the Brit was going to catch cold, and he was more than a little relieved when he noticed Alfred was slowing down.

“Are we here?” His scarf muffled his voice, but Alfred tilted his head back to catch the words and nodded.

“Almost!”

A gloved hand was offered, and Arthur took hold of it as he straightened and swung his leg over the back of the bike. Unfortunately for his numbed shins and ankles, his full weight hit before he was ready and the golden blond fell, clutching at Alfred’s arm.

“Shit—!”

Chuckling, Alfred reached over and gripped the Briton’s arm with his other hand, helping him stand and then holding onto him for a few extra seconds to make sure his boyfriend wasn’t going to lose his balance again. “You good?”

“Yes,” Arthur was too busy looking at the ground to make sure his feet were stable to notice that Alfred had put his helmet’s visor up at some point and was smiling at him, clearly amused by his clumsiness, but his expression also betrayed that he was very fond of the man he was holding up, “I think so.”

“Good. Let go whenever you’re ready.”

The golden blond nodded and slowly released his grip on Alfred, straightening cautiously. “I’m all right now, thank you.” He smiled at Alfred, finally noticing the way the American was looking at him, and felt his face grow warm, his smile turning bashful. “What?”

“I,” Alfred began then stopped, his eyes saddening just slightly, and his smile faltered before returning fully, if not a little forced, “…I’m just glad you agreed to come with me.”

_That’s not what you were going to say._

But Arthur kept that thought to himself. “So am I.” He turned to examine their surroundings as Alfred dismounted the bike, looking for anything that might be familiar. Nothing stood out to him---it was just a random stretch of road out in the country, nothing but tall grass, shrubbery, and trees as far as the eye could see. They weren’t even near any houses or the major roadways.

“Where are we?”

Alfred stood beside the Brit, helmet under his arm, and surveyed the place he’d chosen to stop. “No idea.”

It took a few seconds for Arthur to fully register what the taller blond had said, then a few more passed before he faced his date. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know where we are.” Alfred was now in the process of pulling cloth-wrapped bundles out of his bike’s storage compartment and so didn’t see the incredulous way Arthur was staring at him. “This just looked like a nice place to stop.”

He couldn’t be serious. He’d brought Arthur all the way out here for a mystery date in this dismal weather and he didn’t have a plan? He didn’t even know where they were? They could have stayed at Arthur’s and snogged all afternoon and they were out in the middle of nowhere instead?!

“Alfred,” there was little hope of disguising the impatience in his tone, “please tell me you aren’t serious.”

_We could have been shagging by now._

“Hm?” The bespectacled blond straightened, his arms now full, and paused to find Arthur with a hand over his eyes. “What?”

This was insane. What on earth were they doing out here?

“Hey, relax,” Alfred chided gently, nudging Arthur with his shoulder, “I know what I’m doing. Now stay here and don’t look until I tell you.”

Lovely. More surprises.

“All right.”

“Thanks, Artie.” He kissed the shorter blond’s cheek before hurrying away from the road. There was a small dear trail wandering off into the trees that he was tempted to follow, but there was no knowing how long it would take him to find something interesting, so he ignored it and found a nice flat spot under a nearby tree instead. The bundles he’d been carrying were set down off to the side, and Alfred got to work.

First, he made sure the area was free of any large sticks or rocks that would be uncomfortable to sit on, then he unfolded the large brown tarp he kept with his bike and spread it out over the wet grass. A thick blanket came next, covering the plastic and muffling the tarp’s crinkling crackling sound, then the food he’d made was neatly arranged off to one side beside the extra blanket he’d brought just in case. For the final touch, a third, thin, lightweight blanket was tossed up and draped over the tree’s lowest hanging branches to help keep the rain at bay.

Standing back, Alfred admired his work before walking back towards the road to fetch his dubious boyfriend.

“Okay!” He took Arthur’s hand and gently turned the green-eyed blond to face the makeshift shelter. “You can look!”

The American’s eagerness practically radiated from him, putting a smile on Arthur’s face before he’d even opened his eyes. Spread out blankets and food beneath a tree, a picnic, just as Alfred had said, and—was that a bottle of wine?

Cheeks darkening, Arthur laced his fingers through Alfred’s and squeezed the taller male’s hand gently. “It’s lovely, Alfred.”

“Thanks.” With a gentle tug, he led Arthur down the small hill towards the blankets and sat, grinning with self-satisfaction. Rather than let the other blond sit beside him, however, he used the hold he still had on Arthur’s hand and pulled the green-eyed male down into his lap, hugging him close and placing a gentle kiss on his ever-darkening cheek.

Arthur shifted momentarily to get comfortable and settled back against Alfred’s chest, glad that his parka’s hood was still up and would at least mostly hide how red he was. It wasn’t the affection that was making him blush, necessarily, it was the fact that he’d wanted to stay home and potentially have sex when Alfred had planned such a cute date for them. It had been a long time since he’d been the one with a dirtier mind than his partner and he wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. But he was warm and happy to be in Alfred’s arms, and that was enough for now.

Shifting again, the Briton nuzzled his face into Alfred’s neck before kissing the suntanned skin. “I think you should open that bottle you brought,” he murmured, breath tickling the larger male, and felt his companion’s chest expand in a deeper-than-normal breath.

“You got it, sugar.”

Mm….if Alfred was going to use those petnames, maybe his thoughts weren’t as innocent as Arthur had assumed. 


	28. Chapter 28

Thunder rumbled, rolling through the clouds and heavy rain that poured down. Every surface dripped and splashed, utterly soaked by the storm. And as the weather grew in intensity, hands strained to pull bodies closer, breaths escaped as small puffs of air, and not even the rain could cover up the soft sounds they didn’t fully realize they were making.

Protected by their small shelter beneath the tree, Alfred’s hand wandered up Arthur’s back, exploring the soft skin it found there as his mouth did the same to the green-eyed blond’s neck. The pale skin was flawless, at least for now, and there was nothing he could do to stop himself from pressing a kiss to the Brit’s pulse. He could feel and hear Arthur’s heart pounding behind his ribs, and he knew his was in a similar condition. Being this close to the smaller male, feeling Arthur’s weight on his lap and the warmth of him everywhere they touched, turned Alfred’s hunger into something else, something that he didn’t want to resist, something he wasn’t sure he could resist, even if he wanted to.

God, the smell of him.

The rain heightened Alfred’s senses, drowned him in the taste and smell and heat of Arthur, in the warm sweetness he’d come to recognize as the Brit’s own special flavor of arousal and pleasure. It was delicious, and Alfred wanted more.

Hand slipping down, the American let heat trail from his fingertips and into Arthur’s lower back. The Brit shifted against him, spine arching as his body reacted to the stimulation.

“Alfred.” 

It was barely more than a whimper, a plea that the blue-eyed male do something to help him. Alfred had no intentions of refusing. But he also had no intentions of letting this happen too quickly. If he was going to do this, then he was going to take all the time he wanted. Arthur probably wouldn’t mind.

So even though the smaller blond was pressing up against him and starting to shift his hips uncomfortably, Alfred resisted the urge to push him down on their blankets and have his way with him. Not yet, at least. There was plenty else he wanted to do first.

Pulling his hand free of Arthur’s clothing, the American sat up and wrapped both arms around his boyfriend’s waist, drawing him closer and bringing their hips together in what Arthur would probably have described as a teasing way. The new pressure against his groin made the Brit gasp softly, had him rocking against Alfred, spine and hips moving in rhythm as his breaths became moans.

Oh, what exquisite friction.

Arthur wished there weren’t so many clothes between him and Alfred. Sure, the American’s hand had found its way up the back of his shirt, and they weren’t wearing those heavy parkas anymore, but there was far too much fabric separating their bodies. He wanted Alfred and he wanted him now, wanted skin on skin, wanted hands grasping and holding and bodies writhing together. But all he was getting was clothed grinding. It wasn’t nearly enough.

This wasn’t enough, not by a long shot, and soon Arthur found himself drawing back from the American. With trembling fingers, he gripped the hem of his sweater and lifted it, pulling it off over his head as Alfred helped. He set to the buttons of his shirt next, undoing them slowly in spite of his own impatience—his fingers weren’t cooperating enough to do them as quickly as he wanted. Alfred’s hands found his hips while he worked, rubbing and squeezing, encouraging Arthur to rock even as he finally shrugged out of his shirt and dropped it on the blanket behind him.

Lips zeroed in on his chest and the Briton sighed, watching the other male with hooded eyes. “Al…”

“You’re perfect.”

It was a husky whisper that sent a shiver down Arthur’s spine. Al glanced up at him, so quickly that all he caught was a flash of blue eyes, then hands travelled from his hips to his rear and sudden heat surrounded his left nipple.

“Ah…!” Back arching, Arthur gave a soft cry as his hands instinctively tangled into Alfred’s hair. He whimpered when the American’s tongue dragged, goosebumps spreading over his body.

Firmly, the hands cupping his rear encouraged him to move against the taller blond. Even that was too much—Arthur’s trousers were beginning to feel painfully tight, and this rubbing was going to drive him mad.

Panting and trembling and possibly more turned on than he’d ever been in his life, Arthur forced himself to focus long enough to send his hands down to his groin, fingers searching for the buckle of his belt. He’d only just managed to pull it free when Alfred suddenly bit, not hard, but almost like a warning, his hands now still. Unsure of himself or what he should do next, the green-eyed blond sat astride the taller male’s lap and looked down to find Alfred watching him even as his mouth remained where it was.

“…please,” he managed after a few moments of staring at each other, “I can’t take this.”

Alfred didn’t move for nearly thirty seconds, then his attention returned to Arthur’s nipple. He licked then sucked gently, fingers patiently stroking the Briton’s flawless ass. It fit so nicely into his hands that he couldn’t help giving it a squeeze, and he rather enjoyed the small spike of pleasure it sent through Arthur. Fuck, the Brit was delicious. If they didn’t have sex now then Al was going to be very grumpy about it later. This was like appetizers, little treats to get him ready for the main course, and damn he was hungry.

When he noticed that Arthur had opened the button on his pants—sneaky little banker—Alfred decided it was time to speed things up a little.

So quickly it made Arthur gasp, Al’s hands moved up to his back and the American rolled forward onto his knees, lying Arthur back on the blankets. Startled green eyes stared up at him and he chuckled before leaning down to kiss the other blond.

“Sorry.”

“No,” Arthur smiled, arms looping around the American’s neck, “this is good.”

With a grin, Alfred leaned down and began dropping kisses on the Brit’s throat and collarbone. One of his hands braced against the blankets in order to hold himself up, the other cupping the slight curve of Arthur’s waist, his thumb rubbing just as gently as his lips brushed.

They were soft to each other for a few moments, content to get used to the new arrangement of their bodies. Being beneath the taller blond was enough to give Arthur a bit more patience. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was a step closer, so he didn’t complain. Besides, who in their right mind would be upset about being worshipped like this by someone like Alfred?

He was drowning in tea and honey, lost in the delicacy of Arthur’s pleasure. The golden blond radiated with it, a bittersweet flavor Alfred couldn’t help but savor. He wanted to devour the man beneath him, wanted to get every last drop of pleasure he could out of him, and at the same time he wanted to make sure this would last forever so that he never had to go without. If he finally fed from Arthur, more than just the little snacks he’d gotten so far, he was sure he would never be satisfied with anyone else again.

Vaguely, Alfred wondered if this was what finding your mate was supposed to feel like. Did Feliks and Toris feel this way? They had to, right? One was rarely without the other, and even though they both had sexual partners other than each other, at the end of the day, they never wanted to go to anyone else. So this had to be what mates felt.

Alfred pulled back from kissing Arthur’s throat, gazing down at the Briton with a small, wondering smile.

“…what?” Arthur was confused by the expression on his boyfriend’s face, and a little disappointed those kisses had stopped so soon.

“Nothing.” The smile grew into a grin and Alfred leaned down to kiss the other man’s forehead. “I’m just really happy I found you.”

Eyes widening, Arthur blinked rapidly as his face turned a delicate shade of pink. “Oh.” His embarrassment made him tuck his chin to his collarbone when Alfred looked at him again. “I’m happy, too.”

“Yeah?”

Arthur nodded in response to the American’s question and found himself caught up in another kiss half a second later, Alfred’s mouth eager against his own as the bespectacled blond pressed close to him.

The rain continued to fall around their makeshift shelter, chilling the air almost to the point of seeing their breath. Arthur’s bare flesh was taught and pale, beautifully riddled with goosebumps caused by a cool breeze and Alfred’s touch alike. The American’s fingers were heat against his skin, tingling and burning and making his body move of its own accord.

Fingers tight in ash blond hair, Arthur found himself biting at Alfred’s lip, his hips lifting to press and roll. It was cold, but he was hot, much too hot. He was burning, and kissing Alfred was the only escape. There was nothing but the hands burning his sides, Alfred’s lips so hungry against his own, the pressure, the beautiful _friction_ between their hips. Arthur was mewling into Alfred’s mouth without even realizing it, the soft, desperate sounds escaping him between kisses.

Suddenly, the points of heat that were Alfred’s fingertips dug into Arthur’s sides and the American bucked down against him, hips pressing against the Briton’s backside. The unexpected pressure sent a jolt through Arthur, tensing his muscles half a second before his pleasure left him in a rather loud moan.

When he looked back, cheeks flushed and hazy green eyes only partially open, he found Alfred staring down at him, the model’s gaze sharp and focused, his mouth open just enough to show a hint of white teeth. He looked almost predatory.

It would have been intimidating in any other setting, but with his legs wrapped around the American’s waist, it served only to make Arthur whine. He didn’t know what exactly Alfred was thinking about, but he was sure that whatever plan was forming behind those blue eyes would be far from disappointing. In fact, he thought it might even satisfy a few of the fantasies he’d been having lately.

_I should have put a few of those purchases to use._

Just thinking about what Gilbert had helped him to buy was enough to darken the blush already coloring Arthur’s cheeks, and he found himself averting his gaze out of shy embarrassment. Alfred dipped closer, brushing his lips on the other male’s forehead in an affectionate kiss that did nothing to ease Arthur’s chagrin. It made his jaw ache, his throat feel tight, his chest swell. Words he didn’t expect made it onto his tongue before he managed to swallow them back down.

Slowly, the Englishman looped his arms around Alfred’s ribs and applied just enough pressure to bring him down, stopping only when Alfred rested comfortably against him. He could almost feel the American’s confusion at the move, since only a moment ago he had very clearly wanted something far more intense than a bit of cuddling. But the kiss to his forehead had very nearly brought words to his lips that Arthur was not prepared to say, and he needed to collect his thoughts before anything else were to happen.

“…Artie?” the soft, questioning tone Alfred used to address him only made the Briton tense for a few seconds before he managed to lie back against the blankets again. A weak smile was all he could offer in exchange for Alfred’s concerned look.

“I’m all right.”

“You sure? We can stop.”

It was obvious from the way the blue-eyed American was pressed against him that Alfred didn’t want to stop, that he would be hard-pressed to recover from his current state if Arthur decided he didn’t want this. And the smaller male was no better off despite his embarrassment and the flash of panic at nearly having said…well, something he didn’t even want to think about just yet.

But, no, he didn’t want to stop.

“I’m sure.” His smile strengthened, and Arthur resettled comfortably between the blankets and Alfred. The process involved more than a little wiggling, a movement he knew would only make things worse for Alfred—the shudder that passed through the American was enough to make him grin. “I’m not cruel enough to leave you so riled up.”

That managed to get a laugh out of Alfred, and his concern for Arthur all but vanished. “That’s good. Be kinda shitty for me if you were. Unless you’re into that sort of thing,” he added, almost as a question, and Arthur felt his face warm slightly. The implication threatened to send the Brit’s thoughts spiraling into a fantasy strongly reminiscent of his teenaged years.

Torment Alfred then leave him to suffer for a while? Doable. Very doable.

Thoughtful, Arthur looked up at the American and quirked his lips to one side, brow furrowed. “…I could do that,” he mused, almost grinning. His response seemed to take Alfred by surprise, something that Arthur gloated over internally. “But I don’t feel like it, now.”

Alfred gave a few short, relieved nods. “Yeah, not right now,” he agreed, gazing dropping to Arthur’s lips.

It was the only warning the Briton had before he found himself caught up in another soul-searing kiss, his pulse spiking yet again and fingers digging into Alfred’s back. The American’s hips rolled a gasp out of him that was quickly swallowed by the larger male, Alfred’s tongue taking the opportunity to claim Arthur’s mouth. Moaning weakly, there was nothing the green-eyed blond could do but cling to Alfred and enjoy the pleasure being given to him.

Hell, he was going to soil his pants if this kept up for too much longer.

“A-Alfred…ah…please…” Desperate, Arthur squeezed his knees on the other man’s hips, struggling to get the words out between breathless sounds. There was so much pressure building at the pit of his stomach he could barely even think, hardly noticed when Alfred’s hands slid down his sides and caught in the waistline of his trousers, tugging them down over his thighs. Only the cold air against his skin alerted him to the fact that he was being undressed, and Arthur shivered as he pulled Alfred closer for warmth.

The trousers were gone a few seconds later, kicked off and to the side, already forgotten. Arthur shifted his attention to Alfred’s jacket, pulling and tugging at the fabric until the American finally removed it. His shirt soon followed. Lying back on the blankets, Arthur ran his hands down Alfred’s chest, fingers tracing over the well-toned muscles. On a whim, he leaned up and nipped at the tanned skin of the larger male’s collarbone, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. When he relaxed again, he almost immediately found himself caught up in a kiss, Alfred’s mouth moving confidently against his own. It was easy to lose himself in it, to let his hands wander over the American’s back as he breathed through his nose, his entire body shifting as Alfred moved against him.

With fewer clothes in the way, he struggled to keep his sounds back in order to maintain the kiss. His trousers had only muffled the feeling and now that they were gone there was little he could do but hold onto Alfred as the blue-eyed blond’s hips became more insistent. He pulled away from the kiss only to breathe, face flushed and eyes hazy.

“Please…Alfred…”

It was all the American needed to hear before he sat up on his knees, hands working to remove what little clothing remained on Arthur’s slender form. As soon as the Brit was bared to the world, Alfred ducked down again and began trailing kisses down his pale torso, letting his teeth catch now and then as he moved lower. He could feel Arthur trembling, relished in the taste of the golden blond’s anticipation and the pleasure coursing through him. With a slight smirk, Alfred pressed even more heat into him, his hands caressing the Brit’s thighs as Alfred’s mouth finally reached his groin.

He paused there just long enough to glance up at Arthur, to take in the heaving chest and desperate expression, before he finally did what the banker so desperately wanted. Eyes hooded, Alfred slid Arthur’s painful-looking erection into his mouth and sucked gently, one hand slipping up and around to cup the green-eyed blond’s ass.

“Ahhhaaahh!”

It was such a lovely sound that broke free of Arthur as heat enveloped his length, encouraging Alfred to squeeze with both hands and bob his head lightly. Arthur’s hips rolled, following the motion of the American’s mouth, but Alfred only stayed there for another moment before pulling back, letting Arthur slip free, his member now slick with saliva.

As the Brit whined, Alfred nipped his way back up until he reached Arthur’s mouth, kissing him at the same time that he brought his hips down. Arthur gasped at the sudden pressure and Alfred quickly took advantage of the opportunity to deepen the kiss, dominating the smaller male’s mouth in a matter of seconds as they rocked together. Nails bit into his back and dragged; he arched his spine into the slight pain, rumbling in his throat as his teeth caught hold of Arthur’s bottom lip. The green-eyed blond’s legs hooked themselves around his hips, holding close to him as Alfred moved, the kiss turning sloppy in their desperation. Arthur was close, Alfred could taste it, and even though he was still half-dressed he couldn’t bring himself to stop moving long enough to ditch his jeans and boxers, to slick himself and prepare Arthur. That would take too much time and he wanted to taste Arthur’s climax _now._

“Ah…ah…Al…fred…ah…! _Fuck!_ ” His back arched up off the blanket and Arthur squeezed his legs around Alfred’s waist, nails digging deeper into the American’s back as his entire body shuddered. “Haaah!”

Even though he could feel Arthur’s seed smeared on his stomach and knew the Brit was going to need some time to recover, Alfred kept rocking his hips against the smaller man’s groin as he pulled back just enough to see Arthur’s face. Pale cheeks were flushed a dark red, his hair was rumpled and he couldn’t manage to open his eyes as his lungs fought to pull in enough air to survive his orgasm. Small sounds worked their way out of him as Alfred continued to move.

“S…stop…wait…”

Alfred obeyed the weak command and stilled, moving away so as not to jolt Arthur accidentally. Instead, he crawled the couple of feet to Arthur’s head and sat, gently lifting the Briton’s head and resting it in his lap. Gentle, his fingers combed through messy blond hair, and he curled forward enough to kiss the banker’s forehead. Had he been some other sort of mythical, he would have been purring at how sated and happy he felt. Yes, he still had his own boner to deal with, and the mess on his stomach to clean up, but Arthur was content and needed to rest, so he would wait. Besides, this orgasm had been even more filling than the last one he’d gotten out of the green-eyed man, so his erection was purely that of arousal and not of hunger, just like he’d wanted.

“Rest,” Alfred crooned when he noticed Arthur looking sleepily up at him.

The smallest of smiles flitted across the slender blond’s features before his eyes closed again and he relaxed, dozing almost immediately as Alfred tended to his hair. Even naked beneath a tree in the rain, he was too comfortable to stay awake.


	29. Chapter 29

God, he was tired. Even wet and cold and moving at what felt like illegal speeds, it was a struggle for Arthur to stay awake enough to hold onto Alfred’s middle. He just wanted to be home, dry and warm in bed. Possibly with his arms still wrapped around a certain blue-eyed blond. It was definitely time for a nap.

Arthur spent most of the ride in a doze, waking only when Alfred shook his knee.

“Artie, wake up. We’re back.”

Inhaling quickly through his nose, the Englishman straightened and tried to gather his thoughts. The bike was off, parked at the curb in front of his apartment, it was still misting a bit, and the sun had set. He was cold, his fingertips felt numb, and he could definitely go for some tea, a hot bath, and a warm bed.

Alfred’s hand patted his knee. “Come on.”

Groggy and stiff from the cold, Arthur held tight to Alfred’s parka as he swung his leg up and over and off the bike so he could stumble onto the sidewalk. The American’s dismount was much more graceful, not that Arthur was surprised. He doubted Alfred was ever clumsy in the slightest. Quiet, he watched the American open one of the bike’s storage bins and retrieve a large tarp, which was then draped over the bike to protect it from the weather.

When Alfred was content that his bike would be safe from the rain, he turned and wrapped an arm around Arthur’s shoulders, guiding the green-eyed blond up the steps to his front door.

Eyes only half open and fingers stiff and fumbling from the cold, Arthur managed to pick out the right key and let the pair into his apartment. It was crowded in the front hall, the space too narrow for two grown men to fit easily. They bumped into each other and leaned around one another, removing shoes and rain parkas to avoid tracking water farther into the apartment. Alfred finished first, less tired and more coordinated than his British counterpart, and steadied the smaller blond while Arthur slowly managed to escape the folds of his oversized parka.

“Thank,” the Briton paused, covering his mouth with a hand as he yawned, “you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The parka was hung up beside Alfred’s as Arthur shuffled away, yawning again and turning into the kitchen. Thunder rumbled outside, barely noticed. Blinking slowly, Arthur filled the kettle with water, the sound mixing with that of the rain. He twisted the water off after a moment and moved the kettle to the stove, igniting the proper burner.

“Artie.”

“Hm?” The green-eyed blond hummed softly from his place before the stove.

Gentle, Alfred took the smaller male’s hand and pulled him towards the hall. “Come get changed while that heats up.”

Another small hum was the only real response he got, but he took that to be an agreement and began to guide Arthur to the bedroom. The green-eyed blond didn’t seem to notice when Alfred began to undress him, only looking up at him to blink slowly. Alfred smiled and kissed the shorter male’s forehead affectionately.

“Where are your pajamas?”

“Drawer,” Arthur mumbled, waving a hand towards the dresser against the wall.

Even though the idea of rifling through Arthur’s dresser drawers made him feel slightly invasive, Alfred dutifully searched through them until he found what looked like pajamas. When he turned around, he was unsurprised to find that Arthur had apparently decided standing was far too much effort. The green-eyed blond was sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning so far forward it was impressive he hadn’t fallen on his face yet. Seeing him like that made Alfred chuckle.

Rather than try to coax the man to his feet in order to dress him, Alfred knelt on the floor by the bed and held the pajama pants he’d found open.

“One foot at a time.”

It was a slow but entertaining process to get Arthur into his pajamas, which mostly consisted of Alfred guiding the smaller male’s limbs into the appropriate holes in the appropriate garments, then buttoning the shirt closed just in time for Arthur to give up and lie back on the bed. Alfred left him pulling the blankets loose for himself and ventured back out into the kitchen just in time to turn the stove off before the kettle started to whistle. As much as Arthur had wanted that tea when they got back, there was no way Alfred was going to give him a cup full of very hot liquid while he was so tired. It would only lead to spilled tea and a burned Englishman.

Silence surrounded the American as he stood in Arthur’s kitchen. The only light came from the small bulb mounted under the stove’s hood, just enough to see where he was going. He knew he should go back to the bedroom and make sure Arthur was settling down all right, but he didn’t want to just yet. He wanted a few quiet moments to himself.

_This didn’t go the way I wanted._

But it hadn’t been bad, had it? Arthur had really enjoyed the date, and the storm had only made it more fun, not ruined it. And now he was going to stay the night in the Brit’s apartment to make sure he slept fine. It wasn’t a bad date or a bad way to end the night, so why did he feel so…disappointed?

_I thought we’d make love._

Oh, fuck.

Great, now he was disappointed because he didn’t get laid? Was that really something that was going to start bothering him? Jesus. He’d taken Arthur on a date and they’d had a great time! So he hadn’t gotten laid, so what? Why did that have to make him feel like he’d been let down?

_It’s not like I’m hungry. Arthur’s orgasms are food enough. I don’t need to get off to feel full._

So….why did he feel like it wasn’t enough? Getting off couldn’t really be that important to him, could it? He was an incubus, he’d had more sex in the last decade than most humans could cram into an entire lifespan, and that was just because he was hungry, not because he wanted sex. Except, now that he knew Arthur, he did just genuinely want sex. And he wasn’t getting it.

_Over 200 years of more sex than anyone could ever want and suddenly I’m in the closest thing to a dry spell an incubus could ever survive._

He wanted to have sex. No, he wanted to make love, and he wanted it to be with Arthur. And, if he was completely honest with himself, it was probably his own fault that he hadn’t yet. He just kept getting Arthur off first and wearing the Briton out too much to go any farther. It was self-sabotage, or something like that. The simple solution was to stop doing that and see if Arthur was ready for sex, but he didn’t want to stop. Getting Arthur off was enough to satisfy his appetite and it was fun. He wanted to get Arthur off and make love, not just one or the other. He wanted to have his cake and eat it, too.

_Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll ask him if he wants to._

Making that decision helped Alfred feel significantly better about the situation, even though nothing had actually changed. Still, it helped enough that he went back down the hall and into the bedroom, stripped off his jeans and overshirt, and slipped into the bed next to Arthur. The golden blond was already fast asleep, his hands curled into loose fists near his face, knees drawn up and ankles crossed as he breathed deep and slow.

The sight put a smile on Alfred’s face and he dropped a light kiss on Arthur’s cheek. Then he settled next to his boyfriend and gently wrapped an arm around Arthur’s waist to hold him close while they slept.

X

Eggs sizzled in the frying pan and Arthur hummed as he pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge. It had been a long time since he’d made breakfast for more than just himself, and he was rather enjoying it.

He left the food cooking and worked on setting the table, putting out plates and silverware and cups. Alfred wasn’t awake yet, and Arthur was hoping to get everything ready before he went to rouse the American. After the date he’d been taken on last night, he wanted to spoil the blue-eyed blond.

Minutes later, Arthur stood back and surveyed his work with pride.

Six eggs and eight sausage links shared a platter, several pieces of toast were stacked on a plate, and a tall glass of orange juice accompanied both places at the table. Perfect. This was the sort of meal someone like Alfred should wake up to, especially after the date they’d gone on.

A small twinge of guilt stole the pride out of Arthur’s expression. Was breakfast really all he was going to do to thank Alfred for such a wonderful date? He could manage something better than breakfast. He knew he could. Alfred was amazing—he’d taken Arthur on one incredible date after another. He was sweet and charming and it seemed like he got along with everyone he met. He was, for lack of a better word, perfect.

Arthur’s gaze drifted towards the hall, green eyes staring as if he could look right through the walls and see Alfred asleep in bed. Blond hair perfectly tousled, his face looking younger and softer without his glasses, ribs slowly moving as he breathed.

Perfect.

There was definitely more Arthur could do than make breakfast.

Ah, but.

He hesitated.

He wanted to, but…he wanted it to happen naturally, on its own in its own time. It wasn’t the sort of thing he wanted to just do, not the first time, at least. Being with someone as perfect as Alfred—well, it should be perfect, too.

Arthur stood quietly, still staring at the wall, unable to decide.

_Bother._

The blond shook himself, making up his mind that he would make up his mind later, which is to say he would not be seducing Alfred this morning, and told himself that breakfast was going to get cold if he left it for too much longer. He really should go and wake the American so they could eat. And with that, he checked just once more that the table was set and ready before leaving the kitchen and heading towards the bedroom.

He found Alfred just as he’d imagined him.

Lying on his stomach, one leg drawn up and bent at the knee, his arms buried under the pillow his cheek was resting on, Alfred slept. Rumpled blankets covered most of him, baring just his shoulders, his tan looking even darker against the stark white sheets. The movement of his back as he breathed was slow and steady, nearly imperceptible.

Silent, Arthur moved farther into the room and laid a gentle hand on the American’s shoulder, shaking him. “Alfred, wake up, love.”

Alfred’s arms shifted, slipping further under the pillow, and his leg stretched out towards the foot of the bed, but he didn’t wake.

“Alfred, I made breakfast,” the Briton tried to coax, shaking the other male a little more firmly. A blue eye cracked open to look up at him, hazy and confused, and Arthur smiled. “Good morning,” he crooned, leaning down to brush his lips to Alfred’s temple. “I made breakfast.”

One of the American’s hands slid out from under the pillow and wandered until it found Arthur’s braced on the mattress. Warm, tan fingers closed around his own smaller hand as Arthur sat on the edge of the bed.

“Come on, sleepy, or the eggs will be cold.”

The drowsy blond’s only response was to slowly pull Arthur’s hand closer to himself, tucking it to his chest as he looked up at the Briton. His silence was unusual, and Arthur felt himself grow worried.

“Alfred? Is something wrong?”

His hand was squeezed and Alfred gave a very slight shake of his head.

They looked at each other for a few long, quiet seconds, then Arthur opened his mouth to ask again if something was bothering the American.

“I love you.”

Mouth open, Arthur’s breath caught in his throat before it even turned around to become words. His jaw worked while his tongue lay heavy, trying to produce sound. He blinked rapidly, brain empty of thought.

“…what?” he finally managed the single word, voice tight and high with confused surprise.

Alfred’s hand had gone tight around Arthur’s, betraying his nerves. Still, his voice was calm and steady. “I’m in love with you.”

His words hung in the air between them, heavy and awkward at not being immediately accepted and returned. Arthur’s brain scrambled, trying to comprehend, but taken by surprise, couldn’t possibly respond—

Alfred looked away, releasing Arthur’s hand. “Sorry.” He withdrew, body language becoming uncomfortable as he put space between them.

“Alfred—”

“It’s fine,” the blue-eyed blond cut him off, sitting up and putting on his glasses. He forced a smile over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Too soon.” Alfred stood and began dressing, his back to Arthur, movements stiff, body tense.

Oh, hell, what should he say? Did he love Alfred back? …perhaps, but they’d only known each other for a few weeks, not nearly long enough for confessions of love. He couldn’t possibly commit to being in love so soon, even if this was meant to be some type of whirlwind romance adventure. Alfred was sweet and gorgeous and perfect, and Arthur liked him quite a lot, but he couldn’t force those words past his lips. He just wasn’t ready, no matter how much he liked the American.

Arthur stood, feeling as though he was invading Alfred’s privacy.

“I’ll,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Alfred nodded, busy buttoning up his shirt, and Arthur quietly left the room. As soon as he was alone, Al abandoned the process of getting dressed in yesterday’s clothes and instead pulled his phone from his jeans pocket where he’d left it the night before. There were several unopened text messages from Feliks, which he only glanced through before typing up his response, agreeing to be back to the hotel in time to attend whatever fashion review Feliks wanted to go to. It should leave him enough time to eat with Arthur and still get back early enough to shower and let Feliks dress him.

Then he finished buttoning his shirt, ran his hands through his hair to fix it after having slept, and left the bedroom. He found Arthur in the kitchen, fussing over how the dirtied pans and utensils were stacked by the sink to be washed after breakfast.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, unsure how the golden blond would react. His confession had been born out of partially asleep impulse, and he regretted it, especially since Arthur hadn’t seemed pleased. Now he wasn’t sure if the Brit wanted him to stay.

With forced casualness, Arthur turned from the sink and smiled uneasily. “Hungry?”

_No._

“Starved.”

Arthur’s smile grew, becoming more genuine, and he gestured towards the table. They both sat, picking up silverware and serving themselves the food Arthur had so carefully prepared.

“It looks delicious, Artie,” Alfred complimented, flashing his signature grin, and the Briton’s face turned pink.

“Thank you.”

Silverware clinked on plates as the two ate, still too cautious to fall into their usual banter. Alfred functioned mostly out of habit, eating without appetite even though the food was actually very good. Obviously, Arthur had put a great deal of effort into cooking him breakfast, and that made him feel like a Grade A Piece of Shit for making the morning so awkward. He’d just had to go and say it, didn’t he? Had to look into those stupid, gorgeous green eyes and say the first thing that popped into his head. Not “good morning,” or “how’d you sleep?” or “hi,” but “I love you.” And then he’d made it worse! He could have pretended he’d meant something else when Arthur had finally responded. He could have turned it into a joke, could have grinned and teased Arthur that if he wasn’t careful he’d be in serious danger of being stuck with Alfred for far too long. Who didn’t love being woken up to a freshly prepared breakfast? That was the sort of thing that would definitely keep Alfred around, was Arthur sure he wanted that?

Yes, he could have saved himself the embarrassment of confessing his feelings only to have them sit there, unaccepted, unrequited. But Alfred, clearly, was not that smart, or had not been awake enough, and had repeated it, had phrased it even more unmistakably. “I’m in love with you.” Could he have sounded any more pathetic? This wasn’t some sappy romantic comedy where the two at-odds love interests meet, go on a couple dates, and then live happily ever after together. And yes, okay, he’d been considering the possibility that Arthur was his mate and that they might actually spend eternity together, but Arthur didn’t even know what Alfred was. Mates and eternity were not part of Arthur’s world, weren’t a part of any human’s world. It was far too soon to be exposing those parts of his existence to the Brit. Far, far too soon. And if he didn’t do something to ease the tension, he could be at risk of losing Arthur before he could even be sure if they were meant to be mates at all.

Alfred swallowed and set his fork down, then sipped his juice to help wash down the food he imagined sticking in his suddenly tight throat. “Arthur?”

The Briton looked up at him, chewing a bite of eggs, his thick eyebrows raised as his response, as he was far too polite to speak with food in his mouth.

“I, ah, I hope I didn’t….freak you out. With what I said.”

Awkward. Nice.

Arthur’s chewing slowed. He swallowed, cleared his throat. “It took me by surprise, is all, Alfred.”

“Yeah, you looked surprised.”

“I was.”

“Right.” Alfred fidgeted, straightening his fork beside his plate. “I just hope it’s not going to mess things up between us. Cause I like you. A lot. Obviously.” His tone turned self-deprecating, eyes glued to the tabletop. “I mean, I don’t want to scare you away just because I can’t keep my big mouth shut.”

“I like you, too, Alfred,” Arthur was smiling as he reached across the table to touch Alfred’s hand, stilling the fidgeting digits. “I like you very much.”

Blue eyes met green and the pair exchanged hopeful looks, the awkwardness finally starting to dissipate.

“Then maybe you’ll come with me to meet Feliks and Toris later? Liks wants to check out some grand opening at a store or something.” He grinned, rolling his eyes. “Fashion stuff. You know.”

“That sounds lovely.”

Alfred’s fingers weaved into Arthur’s, holding his hand securely. “Great.” They exchanged smiles again, and Alfred went back to eating with more appetite than he’d had all morning.


	30. Chapter 30

“I don’t care, Fe, whatever you want.”

From his place at the kitchen table, Arthur listened to Alfred talk on the phone and took a drink of his tea.

“Yeah, I’ll shower here.” The American paused. “No, he isn’t.” He glanced at Arthur just long enough for the two to make eye contact before looking away. “I didn’t ask.”

Arthur finished his tea and got up to pour himself another cup from the pot on the counter.

“Not really, Fe.” Alfred was starting to sound impatient with all the questions Feliks seemed to be asking. “No. I’ll see you both in a bit, bye.” He hung up and slipped the phone into his back pocket before sitting down across from the place Arthur had vacated. “They’ll bring me clothes to change into before we go to the opening.”

“What did he keep asking you about?” Arthur resumed his seat at the table and spooned a bit of sugar into his tea, stirring to help it dissolve.

Alfred didn’t much look like he actually wanted to answer that. “He just kept making comments about me staying here last night and whether or not you were going to shower with me or whatever.”

A tinge of pink came into Arthur’s cheeks and the Briton looked down into his tea. “Oh.”

“Yeah, but it’s not because he thinks you’re promiscuous or anything,” Alfred assured him. “He’s just…” he trailed off, trying to come up with the proper word. “He’s….”

“Nosey?” Arthur supplied helpfully, and Alfred smiled.

“You could say that. Not to his face, though.”

They both laughed at that, and the kitchen fell into a comfortable quiet. Arthur drank his tea and Alfred stared idly out the window, at the pale clouds filling the sky as if the weather hadn’t decided if it was going to clear up for a nice afternoon, or rain again.

“So,” Alfred looked down at the tabletop, trying to keep his tone casual, “I was thinking, maybe I could stay here again tonight. If that’s okay.” He glanced up at Arthur to find the Briton looking him at him with mild surprise. “It’s just—I’ve stayed here two nights now, but neither of them were actually planned and it might be nice to stay on purpose, if you wanted me to. I could give you a ride to work in the morning. We could go out for dinner or a movie or something.”

It was unusual for Alfred to seem so unsure of himself. They’d gone on, what, five, six dates now? And he was right, he had—consequently—stayed over twice without either of them planning on it. Maybe it was time he stayed over because that’s what they both wanted, not just because that’s how things ended up.

“I think that sounds very nice.”

A hopeful smile found its way onto the American’s face. “Yeah?”

Arthur nodded, reaching across the table to hold one of his boyfriend’s hands. “Yes. You do, after all, love me, right?”

The reminder of his embarrassment turned Alfred’s face a dark red and he looked down, but he nodded because Arthur wasn’t wrong to point it out. What was he supposed to do, take it back? No. He might be an idiot, but he liked to think he was honest, at least.

Well, mostly. The whole “incubus” thing hadn’t exactly come up in conversation yet, so not telling Arthur about it was actually a lie, more of a…truth avoidance.

Reassuringly, Arthur squeezed the taller blond’s hand, still smiling. “I’d be delighted if you’d stay the night.”

Alfred grinned and laced his fingers through the other male’s. “Then I will.”

X

It had been a while since Alfred used a shower like the one in Arthur’s bathroom. It was a tub, or used to be, but had been updated to include a showerhead and curtain rack that he was fairly certain the Brit never used. He did know Arthur was fond of baths, after all. Still, the showerhead was high enough that he only had to duck a little bit to drench his hair, and Arthur kept the bathroom clean. Despite never having bathed there before, Alfred felt comfortable.

Humming, the American opened the curtain just far enough to peek out at the shelf Arthur kept his products on, careful not to let water drip all over the floor. A neatly arranged row of bottles greeted him, as well as a bar of soap set on a glass dish. Shampoo, conditioner, face scrub, lotion…Arthur had even arranged them in order of use, it seemed.

 _So organized,_ Alfred thought fondly as he picked up the bottle of shampoo and brought it inside the shower, closing the curtain to block out the cold air that had begun to swirl around his body. He popped the cap to the shampoo bottle and lifted it to his nose to smell. It was a fresh, earthy scent, like rain and trees, well suited to the Englishman it belonged to. Alfred wouldn’t mind smelling like that at all.

He began to hum again as he poured a bit of the shampoo onto his palm and set the bottle down on the bottom of the tub, leaving it there while he lathered up his hair. The scent of it was stronger now, especially to his heightened senses. A minute later he ducked again to rinse, then retrieved the shampoo bottle and carefully returned it to its proper place on the shelf. He chose the bar of soap next, forgoing the conditioner and the facewash, since products like those had no effect on him.

There was no incubus dead or alive who ever needed beauty products. Just one of the perks of being a sex demon.

It took him mere minutes to wash and rinse, but Alfred didn’t turn the water off right away. He didn’t want Arthur to think he’d rushed and not cleaned himself properly, and besides, the running water was relaxing.

“Alfred,” Arthur’s voice sounded, accompanied by a few knocks at the door, “I have some clothes you can borrow until Feliks and Toris get here.”

“Be out in a sec!” He twisted the spout to turn off the water and pushed his bangs back out of his eyes. Everything smelled like Arthur’s shampoo and soap and Alfred couldn’t believe he hadn’t appreciated the scent sooner. Of course, he’d always thought the golden blond smelled nice, but this was such a pleasant, distinct smell that he should have identified sooner. He would definitely be appreciating it more from now on.

“I’ll just leave them on the bed, okay?”

“Okay!”

The curtain rings jingled quietly as Alfred stepped out of the bathtub and into the cold air. He shivered slightly, reaching for the towel Arthur had gotten out for him, shook it out and rubbed it over his hair, down his arms and across his chest. Then the towel was wrapped around his waist, tucked into itself, and Alfred left the bathroom.

“Oh, I,” startled, Arthur turned from where he’d been rummaging in his dresser, stared, blushed, and quickly looked away. “I was just…” he trailed off, face reddening further as he kept his eyes on the floor; Alfred laughed.

“What’re you so shy for? You’ve seen me shirtless before, Artie.”

The blush was spreading to his ears and neck. “Not like this.”

Alfred leaned against the door frame, folding his arms over his chest, lips pulling into an amused smile. “You saw me naked in the dressing room, when you came to that photoshoot.”

“I didn’t look,” Arthur mumbled, his shoulders hunching, fingers curled around the hem of his sweater and green eyes averted. He was redder than a tomato.

That was a lie, and Alfred knew it. He remembered the way Arthur had looked at him, remembered the exact look in those green eyes as they’d stared. Arthur had most definitely looked, and Alfred had enjoyed it. Why was the Brit being so shy now?

He was tempted to find out—it’d be easy, he thought, to cross the room, tilt Arthur’s chin up and ask what he was thinking. The shorter blond would blush and stutter and Alfred would smile in the way that always got him just what he wanted. Arthur would crumble, melt into a gold and green puddle at the American’s feet. Easy. So he did.

A few steps put him across the room. The expected blush was already dark in Arthur’s cheeks and spreading over the rest of him, his gaze carefully averted. His lips twitched up into a slight smile as Alfred lifted a hand, trailing his fingers along the edge of Arthur’s jaw towards his chin. The blue-eyed blond’s thumb brushed over his boyfriend’s lower lip—he felt the slight gust of Arthur breathing—and he lifted until it was difficult for the Briton not to look him in the eye.

“Artie,” he spoke softly as he tilted his head, eyes searching, “Arthur, babe.”

“What?”

“Aw, come on. Look at me? Please?”

Stubborn little creases appeared on Arthur’s forehead, right between those bushy eyebrows. “No. You’re not going to use those bloody blue eyes and that charming grin to make me forget myself.”

Alfred almost laughed. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“I bloody well know it is, you gorgeous git.”

One of the American’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise. “Gorgeous?”

“Oh, shut up.”

He let the laugh come this time, light and happy. The sound was enough to grab Arthur’s attention, his green eyes flicking towards Al’s face. And that was it. His face twitched, an attempt to look away, but he was caught. There was no breaking the eye contact he’d accidentally made with the taller blond, and they both knew it.

The smile on Alfred’s face grew smug as he leaned closer, thumb once again caressing Arthur’s lip. “Come on, Artie,” he spoke in low tones, felt the Brit nervously shifting his weight, “I know you looked when I was changing.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Arthur would argue, but then the creases in his forehead relaxed, and the tension went out of his shoulders. “Yes.” There was a hint of resentment in his voice, as if he was unhappy to admit it, though Alfred still didn’t understand why the Englishman had tried to lie about it in the first place.

“I dunno what you’re so angry about.” Alfred’s eyes dropped to Arthur’s mouth, where his thumb still held claim over that plumb bottom lip. “I thought it was hot.”

Immediately, Arthur’s entire body stiffened and his neck felt about ten times warmer than a second ago. Why did Alfred have to talk like that? So blunt and without worry? How did he know Arthur wouldn’t react badly? Not that many people would react badly to such blatant flirting, and Alfred was his boyfriend, and they weren’t exactly celibate.

Even thinking the word in relation to Alfred—and to himself, honestly—made Arthur want to snort. Celibate? Alfred? Impossible.

Still, this sort of interaction was far from what he was accustomed to, even if he was enjoying it.

“I, well,” he stumbled over his words, not really even sure what he was trying to say. The American was just so _distracting._ “It…it’s not appropriate.”

“Appropriate? To flirt with your boyfriend in your own home? How is that inappropriate?”

“Your friends are coming. They’ll be here soon. We shouldn’t be doing this now.”

“Mm…they won’t mind, and I want a kiss.”

Oh, Lord.

Arthur vaguely realized the edge of the dresser was pressing into his lower back. When had Alfred gotten so close? He could feel the leftover heat of the American’s shower emanating off that sunkissed skin. A few drops of water that he’d missed while toweling off glistened as he moved. Arthur’s throat felt uncomfortably thick.

“I, ah,” he swallowed past the lump, hands lifting to hold onto the dresser as if he needed to steady himself, “a kiss would be all right.” His fingers tightened their grip when Alfred leaned even closer, their lips almost touching.

“Just one?” the blue-eyed blond purred, lips curved into an inviting smirk.

_He’s not human._

No human could sound like that! So completely irresistible, like a simple kiss would be better than anything Arthur had ever experienced. It wasn’t possible. How did he always manage to do this? How?

His self-control was weakening rapidly, completely overwhelmed by everything that Alfred was. A kiss? Why would he ever want to refuse that? No one would.

Releasing the dresser, Arthur instead wrapped his arms around Alfred’s neck and pulled the American down against him, his head tilting. “Maybe more than one.” It came out breathlessly just before their lips met, Arthur’s body curving to fit into the shape of Alfred’s as he closed his eyes. The hand that had been under his chin slid up to cup his cheek. Alfred kissed him firmly, but slowly, and Arthur lost himself in it.

An arm circled around his waist, pressing into his lower back as if it were possible to bring him even closer than he already was. Arthur’s hand moved up until his fingers found Alfred’s hair, tangling into the damp strands on the back of the American’s head. His breathing was already becoming uneven, air raggedly drawn in through his nose because his mouth was far too busy to bother. Alfred’s hand left his cheek, fingers trailing down Arthur’s neck then vanishing only to reappear on his hip. It slipped up under the Briton’s shirt, warm and smooth, and settled on the slight inward curve of his waist.

Without fully realizing it or consciously deciding to, Arthur rolled his hips up against the other male. He was so warm, much too warm for clothes, and with just a towel on Alfred he could feel plenty. Fuck, this was hot. Alfred was hot. Arthur was overheating. He wanted more than just this.

Parting his lips, Arthur just barely tasted Alfred’s mouth, an invitation to take things further. Immediately, the American’s tongue was in his mouth, and Arthur let out a breathy moan, clinging tighter to him. The doorbell rang.

Arthur had never whined so loudly in his life, which was probably saying something.

Slowly, reluctantly, Alfred drew away from the golden blond and gave a strained smile. “Guess Feliks and Toris are here.”

“Bloody awful timing,” Arthur grumbled, sending a glare in the direction of the front door.

The bell rang again, and Alfred sighed.

“You should go let them in, otherwise Feliks’ll complain.”

“Fine.” Arthur leaned up and gave Alfred one last, hungry kiss before breaking away entirely and heading towards the bedroom door. “Better try to calm down, love. Your excitement is showing.” He glanced back in time to see Alfred blush, and then was gone.

“Tease!” the American called after him, but Arthur had already disappeared down the hall, and Alfred was left alone to finish drying off. Not that he actually needed to, so he settled for sitting on the bed to wait for someone to bring him his change of clothes. Hopefully, Feliks had chosen something relatively tame, but this was some big grand opening party and he’d probably taken advantage of the occasion as an excuse to dress Alfred in something he’d never actually wear just to show him off as a model.

Voices drifted down the hall from the front of the apartment, mixed with familiar laughter and footsteps.

“He’s in there,” he heard Arthur say, followed by Feliks’ thank you, and then the door opened and the blond nymph slipped inside before shutting it behind himself.

“Well, he smells horny,” he commented by way of greeting.

Alfred didn’t try to resist rolling his eyes. “Morning.”

“What,” Feliks grinned as he held out the bag Alfred’s new clothes were in, “grumpy ‘cause you didn’t get any?” He paused and looked around the room, sniffing conspicuously. “Geez, that’s fresh. Guess we interrupted.”

Rather than say anything in return, Alfred merely took the bag from his friend’s outstretched hand and opened to see what horrors Feliks had in store for him today. To his surprise, he found slim fit jeans and a comfortable old buttonup shirt that he never expected the nymph to let him wear out in public, at least not while they were out together.

“Satisfied?” The slender blond was obviously smug.

“Did Toris pack this?”

“No!” Feliks huffed and folded his arms over his chest, looking away. “I did, you ungrateful ass. Now get dressed or we’re going to be late!” He stormed out as Alfred laughed, his muttering audible all the way down the hall.

Relieved and now definitely looking forward to this morning’s outing than he had been before, Alfred dressed and toweled his hair once more to make sure it would dry quickly. Then he hung the towel in the bathroom—since he’d likely use it again tomorrow morning—and left the bedroom. He found Arthur entertaining his two new guests in the kitchen, refilling Toris’ cup of tea.

“Hey.” He slipped an arm around the Brit’s waist and kissed his cheek.

A light pink tinge came into Arthur’s face and he smiled. “Hello there.”

His usual grin slipped into place and Alfred claimed one of the remaining chairs at the table. “Gonna be ready to go soon?”

“Yes, Arthur was just telling us about your date last night,” Toris spoke before taking a sip of his tea. “It sounds like it was a lot of fun.”

Alfred shot a glare at Feliks before the nymph could say anything inappropriate. “Yeah,” he smiled at Arthur, “it was. But Artie was so worn out he practically fell asleep during the ride back.”

“Well,” Feliks gave Al a sly look, ignoring the bespectacled blond’s warning, “after spending an evening with you, I’m not surprised.”

Arthur choked on his tea and Toris studied the grain of the tabletop while Alfred and Feliks stared at each other. The nymph looked so smug that Alfred was tempted to say something inappropriate about how Feliks would know, but he couldn’t in front of Arthur. He didn’t exactly want the Brit to know that he’d slept with Feliks and Toris even once, let alone as many times as he actually had. So he smiled instead.

“No?” Alfred’s tone was light as he leaned back in his chair. “Maybe I should give Toris some pointers, then.”

It was the brunet’s turn to choke on his drink.


	31. Chapter 31

Toris was driving again, his face still tinged an embarrassed, indignant pink as he navigated the busy roads. Beside him in the front passenger seat, Feliks kept his expression blank and aloof, carefully smooth. Arthur had yet to say anything, having mutely cleaned up after the tea and locked his apartment as they left. Out of the four of them, Alfred was the only one who seemed entirely at ease. He lounged in the backseat, one arm draped around Arthur’s shoulders, lazily watching out his window.

“So, Fe, what sort of grand opening are we going to?”

The question interrupted several minutes of relatively silent driving, far too relaxed for the lingering tension.

“It’s a new clothing and accessories front,” the blond in the front seat answered coolly, with none of his customary enthusiasm.

“What’s it called?”

“ _Monaciello,_ ” Feliks replied, his usual accent suddenly replaced by an Italian one. “It’s supposed to be incredible fashion at affordable prices.”

Alfred scoffed. “Affordable by whose standards?”

“Don’t say that like you’re bitter and poor, Al. None of us are falling for it.”

“I know how it feels to be poor, Fe.”

“So do I.”

The nymph was clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation, so Alfred let it go. It wasn’t unusual for him to challenge what the fashion industry considered “affordable,” and he usually bantered and bickered with Feliks about it. They’d debate price versus value on nearly everything the American modeled for his fashionable friend. Alfred was particularly fond of arguing the gap between wages and the ever-rising cost of living. He’d been alive too long to think things were fair these days. But Feliks wasn’t in the mood for debating commercial prices today, so he didn’t say anything else. His comment about Toris had driven the smaller blond to ignoring him, and he knew it—but he still didn’t feel bad for saying it.

Served Feliks right for teasing Arthur.

Instead, the bespectacled blond turned his attention to Arthur and kissed the Briton’s cheek. “You don’t have to look so nervous,” he assured quietly, tightening his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders to comfort him. “He’ll be back to normal soon, don’t worry.”

Arthur nodded, a bit stiff, but he did start to relax, and by the time Toris was parking the car, most of the tension had faded.

They stepped out into the quiet Sunday morning, unnoticed by the streets’ leisurely shoppers.

“It’s just up there.” His hand already slipping into Toris’, Feliks started off along the sidewalk with his lover in tow.

Unhurried, Alfred shut the car door with a snap and looked across the roof at Arthur. “Ready?”

The other blond nodded, and they met by the front of the car. Easily, Alfred draped his arm around Arthur’s shoulders again as they followed Feliks and Toris towards the store.

It was more crowded than he’d expected. Not a single parking space near the storefront was vacant, and the sidewalk was so full the people hardly seemed able to move without spilling into the street and between the parked cars. Many shoppers appeared to be stopping to investigate the commotion.

“Fe, who did you say this shop belongs to?” In the crowd, Alfred was almost afraid to lose track of his shorter companions, and kept his arm around Arthur out of protection rather than affection. “Why’s it so packed?”

“The Vargas brothers, from Italy. They’re very popular designers.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Alfred held a bit closer to Arthur, starting to notice people were looking at him. Staring, really, but he was used to that.

Tucked into the American’s side, Arthur kept hold of Alfred’s hand, looking towards Feliks. “Vargas?”

“Yes. Their store in Italy gained a lot of attention recently—part of why they decided to expand. There was an article about it in _Wonderland._ ” The nymph was on his toes, peering over the heads of the other people in the store and using Toris to steady himself. “I really want to talk to them.”

There was a woman nearby, a reporter, probably, who seemed to be having trouble taking her eyes off Alfred despite the camera worker speaking to her. He pretended not to notice. “What do they look like?”

“Oh, you’ll know them when you see them.”

“ _Ciao, ciao! Benvenuto!_ ”

“ _Grazie tante, è bello!_ ”

The general noise began to die down, a pair of voices drawing the crowd’s attention towards the store’s front counter, and the two brunets standing there.

_Ah._

Well, he knew them when he saw them. That explained it.

Standing side-by-side, each with a hand on the other’s mid-back, the Vargas brothers smiled charmingly at their new shop’s first visitors. They were nearly identical, almost as though they might be twins, but one was a little taller and darker, and felt older.

“Welcome to _Monaciello!_ Thank you for coming!” The younger, lighter brother babbled to the crowd, clearly more excitable than his sibling. “It is very….very…” he seemed to struggle on the word, “ _eccitante!_ ”

“Exciting,” his brother provided indulgently, and the crowd laughed, won over.

“ _Grazie, fratello._ ”

Alfred stopped listening as the two brothers continued on with welcoming their guests and describing how glad they were to be opening a new store there, instead letting his attention shift around the room.

They were the only ones, it seemed. Maybe no one else had noticed it besides Feliks, or they hadn’t felt it was worth investigating. Maybe there would be a second party, later, for them.

Leaning closer to his companions, the American kept his voice low. “Fe, why are we the only ones here?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what they are. Why are we the only ones here right now?”

“I wanted to come see the store.”

“Couldn’t it have waited until we weren’t the only ones?”

Mischievous green eyes finally turned towards him. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Alfred’s expression sank into an annoyed frown. “I hate you.”

“Do not.” Feliks turned back to watch the brothers again.

Sighing, Alfred rolled his eyes and settled in to wait for the brothers to finish their speech. It was all just camera-ready smiles and easily quotable nonsense for the press, anyway; he’d heard it before. Feliks had talked him into modelling at more than one grand opening over the years, and these things were only so exciting the first time. By now, it was barely worth showing up.

“Alfred.” Arthur squeezed his hand.

“Hm?” He’d spaced out. “What.”

Arthur nodded towards the brothers as they began to mingle with the crowd. “They’re done.”

“Finally.” Hopefully, Feliks wouldn’t linger to talk to them for long, and they’d find somewhere less crowded for lunch.

“ _Scusami!_ ” The blond waved over the heads of the people surrounding them. “ _Una parola?_ ”

“He speaks Italian?” Arthur whispered.

Alfred nodded. “He speaks a lot languages.” He didn’t mention that he did, too.

The younger of the two brothers noticed Feliks first, and nudged the older, whispering to him. Alfred recognized the look in their eyes as they spotted him standing behind Feliks and Toris, and then Arthur beside him. Immediately, a growl built in his throat that he swallowed with some difficulty. Now was not the time to pick a fight, not in front of a bunch of humans, especially Arthur. Besides, it wouldn’t have been much of a fight—they weren’t powerful.

“ _Ciao._ ” The younger brother had reached them, and smiled politely; his eyes darted from Feliks to Alfred and back.

“ _Ciao,_ Feliciano, you have a lovely shop,” Feliks complimented.

Feliciano’s smile relaxed slightly. “ _Grazie._ ”

“This is Toris, Alfred, and Arthur.” He gestured at them each in turn. “I’m Feliks Łukasiewicz.”

Recognition brightened Feliciano’s brown eyes. “The designer?”

Obviously pleased, Feliks smiled. “Si.”

The Italian turned and waved to his brother. “Romano, this is Feliks, the designer!” He faced their group again, taking Feliks’ hand into both of his own. “Thank you very much for coming!”

Romano approached with a tight smile, his gaze locked on Alfred. “ _Si,_ thank you. We’re honored.”

Alfred clenched his jaw, maintaining eye contact with the older brunet.

“I read the review of your shop in Italy in _Wonderland,_ I’m delighted to be here!” Feliks flattered to draw Romano’s attention, his smile perfectly charming. “Your designs are completely lovely.”

“But we’d be delighted to host some of your designs!” Feliciano smiled at his brother. “Wouldn’t we, Romano? Feliks’ has a many beautiful pieces.”

A delicate blush colored Feliks’ cheeks. “Thank you very much.”

“We can look over next month’s inventory and see if we have room,” Romano consented, much to Feliciano’s delight.

“ _Perfezionare!_ ”

“Why don’t we discuss it over dinner tonight?” Feliks suggested. “I’ve been working on some new deisgns—I’d love to reveal them in your shop.”

Feliciano looked at his older brother. “Do we have dinner plans already, _fratello?_ ”

“No, our evening is free, once the shop closes at five.”

“Dinner it is!” Feliciano smiled widely. “And perhaps drinks, after? There is a bar not far from here, we would be very comfortable.”

“Sounds lovely.”

Alfred cleared his throat, drawing the attentenion of his companions and the Italian brothers. “Arthur rode with us, and has work in the morning, so I don’t think we’ll come to the bar.”

“I can have a drink or two,” Arthur spoke up for the first time, a bit shy. “I don’t mind. I’d like to get to know you two, I think.” He nodded at Romano and Feliciano. “You’re the Vargas brothers, right?”

“ _Si._ ”

“Are you the same Vargas brothers that opened an account at Lloyd’s Bank earlier this year?”

Romano nodded. “ _Si,_ we did.”

The confirmation eased some of the tension in Arthur’s shoulders, and he smiled. “I thought you might be. I’m Arthur Kirkland—I’m a clerk there, I recognized your name from our intake paperwork. You have several set-asides for charities, I believe.”

“We do. It is ill-done to repay success with greed,” Romano was somber, and Feliciano stilled as his brother spoke. “We like to give back to the people who treat us well.”

“That’s very noble of you,” Arthur complimented. “It would be nice if more business owners shared your views.”

“ _Si,_ but we can do plenty of good.” Feliciano’s smile returned, and he looked around the shop as if anxious. “Romano, we should tend to our other guests, or they’ll think us rude.”

“Shall we meet you for dinner at six?” Feliks pulled his phone from his pocket and began tapping the screen, his thumbs a blur of movement. “There’s a restaurant called Ole & Steen that we’ve been meaning to visit.”

“We will see you there.” Romano gave Alfred one last glance, his hand on his brother’s elbow. “Come, Feliciano. There are some reporters waiting for us.”

The younger Italian waved as the pair walked away. “ _Addio,_ Feliks! We will see you tonight!”

“ _Addio!_ ” Feliks waved, smiling, then turned to his companions with a self-satisfied sigh. “Nothing like making new business connections and new friends all at once!”

Toris kissed his lover’s cheek. “They seem very friendly.”

“Definitely the sort to give to charity,” Arthur agreed, then looked up at Alfred. “You didn’t say anything to the, Alfred. Are you all right?”

Forcing a smile, Alfred nodded and squeezed the Brit’s hand. “I’m fine, I’ve just been to so many of these things, it’s hard to be really interested. Feliks drags me to shop openings all the time.”

“Well, if I didn’t, you’d be out of a job, you know,” the smaller blond retorted, leading the way out of the shop and towards the car.

“What, you’d stop designing clothes if I refused to come to an opening with you?” Alfred asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

“No, I’d just stop designing clothes for you to model.”

“Oh, now that’s cold, Fe.”

“You asked.”

Alfred chuckled, then opened the car door for Arthur once Toris unlocked it. “After you.”

“Such a gentleman,” the Brit teased, sliding in and over so Alfred could sit beside him.

“Of course.” The American kissed his cheek before settling against the seat, finally relaxed. “Lunch?”

“And shopping!” Feliks clicked his seatbelt into place and smiled at them over his shoulder. “Canary wharf is like, the best business district in London. You picked a good place to find a boyfriend.”

Arthur blushed a little as Alfred grinned and took his hand, lacing their fingers.

“I found a great boyfriend.”

“Oh!” The flustered Brit smacked at his shoulder with his free hand, and Alfred laughed.

“What? It’s true—you’re great.”

Slumping down in his seat, Arthur covered his face as best he could. “Git.”

With a fond smile, Alfred lifted their joined hands and kissed Arthur’s fingers. He was cute when he was embarrassed.

“There’s a shopping center ahead.” Pointing, Feliks guided Toris into changing lanes to enter the parking ramp. “Should be a good place to shop and get some lunch. Have you ever been here, Arthur?”

The Brit’s head sank a little and he gave Alfred a nervous glance. “No, I’m...not overly fond of malls. A bit too noisy for me.”

“Oh, well, we can drop you over somewhere else if you want,” Feliks offered.

“No, that’s all right. I’ll be fine.” He put on a brave face. “I’m sure it’ll be much nicer to shop with you lot than it was to go alone.”

Immediately, Feliks’ face brightened. “Of course it will! I’m _tons_ of fun to shop with. Ask Alfred,” he smirked at the American over his shoulder, “he’s gone shopping with me lots of times.”

“Enough to last a lifetime,” Alfred agreed good-naturedly.

Both Toris and Feliks laughed as the brunet navigated the garage, searching for an empty space.

“I think you shop enough for quite a few lifetimes, Liks,” Toris teased him, and Feliks huffed playfully.

“Well, someone has to dress the two of you. If it weren’t for me, you’d both still be wearing the rags I found you in.”

“Rags?” Arthur repeated, thick eyebrows drawing together.

“He’s exaggerating,” Al assured him. “Feliks thinks anything that isn’t the height of fashion is the same as wearing garbage.”

The blond in the front seat sniffed and put his nose up at a pretentious angle while his companions laughed at his expense.

Eventually, they managed to find a vacant parking spot and abandoned the car. They walked towards the nearest mall entrance in pairs, Feliks leading the way. It was much warmer inside, the cool, wet weather of the morning left behind.

“Should we find something to eat first?” Toris was already looking for a map or signs to tell him where to go.

Feliks opened his mouth to respond, but Alfred beat him to it. “We’d better. Otherwise Feliks will keep us in some clothing store for hours and we’ll all die of starvation.”

The designer gave him a dirty look, but didn’t argue.

It wasn’t long before they found their way to the food court, just in time for the beginning of the lunch rush. Several fast food restaraunts flaunted meal deals and discounts, all trying to outdo each other.

“What’re you hungry for, Artie?” Alfred was already eyeing a place that offered burgers and fries.

“Chips. Fish and chips.”

“Any spot in particular?”

Arthur pointed; Alfred was relieved to see that the menu listed multiple options.

“Guys,” he caught Feliks and Toris’ attention, “we’re going there—where d’you want to meet to sit?”

All four of them paused for a moment, scanning the food court for an empty table they could meet at to eat.

“There’s one.” Toris pointed, his attention already shifting to Feliks. “You can go save it—I’ll bring the food.”

“How do you know what I want?” Feliks’ expression was skeptical, but his green eyes glinted playfully.

“I know what you like.”

Feliks smiled and kissed the brunet’s cheek. “True.” He left them, heading off to the table, and Toris went back to judging his options.

Gently, Alfred tugged on Arthur’s hand. “Come on.” Together, they got in line at the restaraunt Arthur had chosen. True to his word, the Brit ordered his fish and chips, and a glass of water, and Alfred eventually settled on one of the more extravagant burgers available.

“Don’t you want chips?”

“What?”

“The meal, don’t you want chips with your burger?”

“Oh, yeah, make it a meal, please.”

The cashier adjusted their order and Alfred handed over a couple of bills to pay for them both, already starting to step aside so the next person in line could order; he barely waited long enough to take his change.

“So,” Alfred began as the pair stood to the side, waiting for their order to be called, “you have work tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll make sure Toris remembers that we have to take you home before those Vargas brothers drag us out to the bar.”

“Oh, I thought they wanted me to come along?”

Alfred tried to ignore the plaintive look on Arthur’s face. “They probably did, but you shouldn’t be out late on a Sunday night.”

“I’m perfectly capable of making that decision for myself, Alfred.”

He was straying into dangerous territory, now. Arthur didn’t sound happy.

“I know,” he spoke slowly, carefully, “but Feliks tends to get carried away, and I don’t want you to have a rough morning tomorrow.” Though he didn’t continue, his tone implied that he was also worried that Arthur would get carried away, too. _Like last time_ hung silent between them, unspoken but obvious.

Though still clearly unhappy at being excluded, Arthur sighed and leaned into Alfred, prompting the taller man to drape an arm over his shoulders. “All right, I’ll go home after dinner.”

“Thanks, sugar.” Alfred placed a kiss on the top of Arthur’s head, earning a smile and a slight blush.

“Don’t you dare use that bloody accent while we’re out in public,” Arthur muttered, suspicious of the petname, but not drawing away.

“Naw, wouldn’t dream of it.” The American dropped his head, grinning, to put his mouth closer to Arthur’s ear. “I’ll save it for our next date.”

Arthur very nearly shivered; he could feel goosebumps popping up all over his arms and back. “Is that a promise?”

“Mhm.” Alfred kissed the other blond’s cheek before he pulled away, stepping up to the counter to take their food, then followed Arthur to where Feliks and Toris already sat.


	32. Chapter 32

His feet were starting to hurt. Never in his life had he spent this much time in a mall in a single day. Well, maybe that wasn’t true. He’d certainly loitered around them when he was younger and looking to get into trouble wherever and whenever he could. But it had definitely been years, and his feet were determined to remind him of it.

Arthur was thoroughly ready to go home and call it a day. As much as he’d wanted to argue with Alfred about going out tonight for dinner and drinks, he was really very willing to just go home. Even dinner sounded like it would take too much energy.

“Alfred,” he leaned into the taller man, “I’m starting to feel rather worn out.”

The bespectacled blond sighed and nodded, then popped his neck. “Feliks is a notorious shopper.”

“He always takes this long?”

“Longer.”

“Oh.”

Alfred shifted against the wall he’d chosen as his resting place, his arm comfortable around Arthur’s shoulders. “If we didn’t have a dinner date, he’d insist on staying until the stores close.”

That seemed rather excessive to Arthur, but then, he wasn’t a fashion designer, and he stuck to clothes that were functional, comfortable, and appropriate for the occasion. Feliks seemed far more interested in every aspect of the things he looked at. Fabric, pattern, shade, shape, cut—Arthur had heard more commentary on the fashion industry from Feliks’ muttered judgements that day than he’d ever heard in his life, and he hadn’t understood a word of it.

“Feliks,” Toris knocked on the dressing room door, shopping bags hooked over both arms and a few near his feet, “we need to get going or we’ll be late for dinner.”

“Just a minute!” the response came through the door, just slightly muffled, and the three waiting men exchanged tired looks.

It was another moment before the dressing room door opened to reveal Feliks in his latest outfit. He came out of the dressing room and did a small turn, his arms up to show off the slim-fitting black trousers, the texture of the shirt almost the exact shade of green as his eyes. When he faced them again he stopped, grinning, and hooked his thumbs in the dark gray suspenders he wore.

“You look great,” Alfred complimented, though his tone was more impatient than anything, “can we go now?”

Feliks stuck his tongue out at the American then turned to Toris, smiling again, his chin lowered. “What do you think?”

“Perfect, as usual,” the brunet’s compliment was more sincere and put a pleased blush on Feliks’ face.

“Thank you.”

“It is getting late, though,” Toris glanced at his watch, “we’ll be late if we don’t go.”

“Okay, okay,” Feliks was already heading back into the dressing room. “Just, like, give me a minute to change back and then we’ll check out and go.”

Alfred groaned and let his head thump back against the wall, and missed the scowl Feliks gave him just before shutting the door. “Why do you even buy clothes, Fe? You could just make all these yourself.”

“Because,” his voice was muffled once again, accompanied by the shuffling of clothes as the designer changed, “making clothes is what I do for a living. Shopping is for fun. It’s completely different.”

“Don’t you already have like a dozen green shirts?”

“Eight, and none of them are this shade. It _almost_ matches my eyes!”

“Couldn’t you just buy fabric that matches your eyes and make your own?”

“You’re missing the point of this being fun, Alfred. I enjoy shopping. I love fashion. It’s important to stay up to date on the leading styles and designers. Besides, it’s a huge compliment for another designer to wear your line! It shows respect and appreciation for what we do.” The door opened and Feliks emerged, dressed in his original outfit once more, the clothes he’d decided to buy on their hangers in his hand. “When I buy from another designer, it tells them that their designs are quality, and it shows everyone else that it’s a line worth looking into and noticing.”

“So, why don’t you specifically purchase from new lines to help them get started?” Alfred questioned, following as Feliks took Toris’ hand and began making his way towards the checkout counter, Arthur still tucked comfortably into his side.

“I do,” the nymph replied simply, and left it at that.

They checked out at the register—thankfully there was no line, otherwise they really would have been late for dinner—then found their way back outside to the car.

“Remember, we need to take Arthur home, first,” Alfred said as he opened the car door for the shorter blond.

Feliks, already putting his seat belt on in the front passenger seat, immediately pulled a pout. “I thought he was coming to eat with us.”

“No,” Arthur slid into his seat and Alfred followed him, shutting the door, “I’ve got to be up early for work tomorrow, and dinner and drinks would be too tempting to stay up far later than I should.” He glanced at Alfred, still not entirely happy with the decision, but tired enough not to argue.

Turning in his seat to give the pair a wide-eyed look and quivering lip, Feliks sniffled dramatically. “You don’t want to come spend time with us?”

Alfred rolled his eyes.

“No, I’d love to, which is exactly the problem.” Arthur was far more gracious in his response. “If I came to dinner, and then drinks, I’d undoubtedly lose track of time, or simply ignore it, in favor of spending more time with you. I’d stay out too late and get too little sleep to be useful at work tomorrow morning.”

With a dissatisfied hum, Feliks drummed his fingers against the seat back. “Well…fine, but next time you’ll have to join us.” He turned back to the front as Toris backed the car from its parking spot. “Alfred can’t keep hogging you all to himself.”

Shifting down to put his mouth closer to Arthur’s ear, Alfred pulled the smaller male close possessively. “Like hell I can’t,” he muttered, earning a smile and soft kiss as they left the parking lot and drove towards the Brit’s home.

-

“Bye, Arthur!” Feliks had rolled down his window and stuck his entire head and an arm out to wave at the other man as Alfred walked Arthur to his front door.

Lifting hand, Arthur smiled back at the designer. “Thank you for inviting me along!”

“Next time we’ll ditch Alfred and shop for you.” There was more than a little mischief in Feliks’ smile as he said it, but he pulled back into the car and rolled his window up before either of the other two blonds could answer.

His face an embarrassed shade of red, Arthur avoided meeting Alfred’s gaze as he unlocked his front door. A hand covered his own, stopping him from pushing the door open, and he looked up to find amused, tender blue eyes watching him.

“Ignore him,” Alfred commanded gently, then stooped just enough to kiss Arthur’s cheek. “He’s just teasing you because he likes you. It’s how he shows affection.” His gaze slid to the car then back to Arthur. “And he’s probably trying to fluster me because he thinks it’s funny.”

Arthur raised one thick eyebrow. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you flustered.”

“I’m pretty good at hiding it, but,” he leaned close now, lowering his voice, “Feliks’…suggestion, might just about do it.”

A shiver ran down Arthur’s spine. “Then maybe I should go shopping with him.”

“I’m not going to stop you.”

Pulling back slightly, Arthur slipped an arm around Alfred’s neck and pulled him in for a not-so-chaste kiss. Surprised, Alfred blinked twice before kissing back, both hands going to the shorter man’s waist to pull him closer. Arthur pressed against him, one hand moving to grip the model’s shirt.

The sudden beep of the car horn startle them apart; they both looked to see Feliks watching them through his window, clearly entertained. At the same time, they looked at each other, and Arthur bit his lip, his cheeks a pretty shade.

“I wish you could stay,” he whispered, and Alfred nodded his agreement.

“Feliks would kill me if I skipped this dinner. It’s going to be at least half business meeting, and he is technically my boss.”

The Briton sighed, resigned. “I know. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll pick you up from work.” Alfred gave him another quick kiss before pulling away completely and heading back towards the car.

“See you tomorrow, love,” Arthur called after him, and Alfred winked as he opened the car door.

“See ya, Artie.” Then he got into the car and was gone a moment later, Toris pulling away quickly so they’d make it to the restaurant on time. Arthur watched until they vanished around a corner before going inside, already looking forward to tomorrow.

-

He’d barely gotten his door shut before Feliks started talking.

“I’m surprised you didn’t, like, desecrate a dressing room today. Were they making out while I was changing?” He didn’t wait for Toris to respond. “I can’t believe you haven’t slept with him yet. He obviously wants to. Kissing you like that? It’s so obvious. You should just ask him tomorrow if he wants to so you can stop whining about it.”

“I don’t whine about it,” Alfred growled from the back seat, “and we weren’t ‘making out’ while you were shopping. We barely kissed at all.”

“Aw, is the poor Incubus hungry?” Feliks looked at Alfred over his shoulder with a mocking pout, his bottom lip stuck out comically far.

“Shut up, Fe.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Don’t worry—you’ll get plenty to eat tonight.”

Alfred rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, slumping down in the backseat to watch the city go by through the window. It wasn’t that this sort of teasing was unusual from Feliks—this was actually pretty light—but he didn’t like being reminded that he hadn’t fed from Arthur yet.

_No, don’t think of it like that. You’re not feeding from him. You’re not going to sleep with him for food. If we have sex, then it’s going to be because we both want to, not because I’m hungry. Arthur isn’t food and I never want to see him that way._

But there was no denying that Feliks was right. He was hungry, and if they stuck to the plan of going for drinks after dinner, then he shouldn’t have any problem getting a meal.

-

The restaurant they’d chosen was apparently a very popular one. It was crowded, and if Alfred wasn’t used to it by now, he’d have been surprised that they managed to get a table without a reservation. After a few dozen years hanging around the nymph, though, he was used to Feliks getting his way. They’d been given a table for five, the three of them plus the Vargas brothers, and even after eating appetizers and entrees, Feliks was looking over the dessert menu.

“Oh, the chocolate cream pie looks good,” he leaned closer to Toris, showing him the picture on the menu, “but it’s probably so unhealthy…”

“That’s never bothered you, before,” the brunet answered good-naturedly, earning a winsome smile from his blond lover.

“You know me too well.”

“I should.”

They shared a small kiss, and Feliks put the menu down before propping his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers, his chin resting on them. “So,” he addressed the brothers seated across the table, drawing their attention from their own dessert menus, “did you have a place in mind for drinks?”

Feliciano smiled and nodded eagerly, leaning forward so he could keep his voice down. “There’s a place we’ve heard of since coming here, called _Rún._ Have you heard of it?”

Feliks shook his head, looking thoughtful. “ _Rún_ ….what is that? Icelandic?”

“Old Norse,” Lovino answered him, and the nymph made a sound of understanding.

“It’s very, very old, then.”

“And powerful,” Feliciano added, his tone turning cautious, “but we have heard good things.”

“They wouldn’t have lasted if it wasn’t safe,” Toris pointed out.

Musing over his menu even though he’d already decided to order the chocolate cream pie, Feliks hunched one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I suppose it can’t hurt to give it a look. Some of the oldest places in the world are the best. They’re too experienced to make the same mistakes as some of these new places.”

“ _Si,_ that was our thinking, too.”

“Can someone tell me what _Rún_ means in Old Norse?” Alfred asked, not exactly politely. Four pairs of eyes turned on him, but he didn’t try to hide his annoyance.

“It means ‘mystery, secret,’” Lovino finally explained, and the others nodded in confirmation. “Old Norse was brought by the Viking invaders in 793, so whoever is running _Rún_ is either very old themselves, or they’re from a very old, very powerful family.”

Feliciano closed his menu and set it aside. “We’ll want to be careful, but it should be safe.”

His annoyance turned to apprehension and Alfred looked at his friends. “I shouldn’t come.”

Waving a hand, Feliks dismissed his worries. “It’ll be fine. You’ll be with us. Nothing’ll happen.”

“That hasn’t stopped things before,” Al pointed out.

Toris settled a hand on his lover’s shoulder. “He’s right. We might want to go ourselves and see if it’s safe before Alfred joins us.”

The nymph sighed dramatically, wagging his head from side to side as he rolled his eyes. “Fiiine. He can wait in the car, and if it’s not, like, safe for him, then we’ll leave.”

Alfred relaxed back into his chair and picked up one of the dessert menus, only feeling a little bit better. Going for drinks was one thing. Meeting Feliciano and Lovino was another. Going for drinks with the brothers at a place like _Rún_? That wasn’t just another thing. That was a can of worms. Worse than a can of worms. That was a dozen things all shoved into one little innocent looking box. A dozen venomous, angry, ancient creatures that very well may decide they definitely did not want him opening their box. There had to be somewhere newer and less…risky for them to go.

Still, he didn’t say anything. Feliks was determined to befriend these designers, and, honestly, he was getting a little tired of being surrounded by humans. If _Rún_ turned out to be safe, it would be a nice break. He could let loose a little, stretch his wings, get a good meal. There was the chance it wouldn’t be a safe place for him, but those that welcomed incubi were usually _very_ welcoming. He’d either not be allowed inside, or he’d be treated almost like a guest of honor.

Only when their server returned did the American set his menu down and decline any dessert after his companions ordered theirs. He wasn’t hungry for cake or pie or ice cream.

The desserts were brought out only a few minutes later, and slowly eaten between bits of conversation. Feliks had turned the topic back to the brothers’ store, asking about their lines and upcoming plans if the store did well. Alfred didn’t pay enough attention to know the specifics; he’d heard conversations just like this one too many times to count. Mostly, he thought about Arthur, what they could do tomorrow when he picked the human up from work. If it was nice out, they could go for a walk, or take a ride through the countryside on his bike. Staying at Arthur’s to watch a movie if it was raining would be nice, too. They could huddle up on the couch together.

“Alfred.”

“Hm?” Blue eyes came back into focus and the American looked at Toris.

“Are you ready?”

A glance caught him up—they were finished eating and ready to leave.

“Yeah.”

They all stood, Toris dropping several bills on the table as a tip, and left in a group for the parking lot outside.

“We’ll meet you there!” Feliks called to the brothers with a wave, and Feliciano returned the gesture with enthusiasm.

Alfred settled into the backseat once more. “If they don’t want me there, you guys can drop me at the hotel and go back. I’ll be fine.”

Buckling his seat belt as Toris started the car, Feliks scoffed and rolled his eyes. “As if, Incubutt. You’re hungry, and no way would we ditch you like that.” He put down his visor and flipped the mirror open, checking himself over.

He knew Feliks meant that if he couldn’t go into the bar, they’d come back with him and be his meal for the night. That, he knew, would somewhat make up for missing out on some socializing with their own kind.

“No, really, I know you guys are just as sick of humans as I am. You should go and fraternize with the Italians, meet some other locals. I bet they know you’re here—you can’t just walk into a bar like that and then leave without letting them fawn over you.”

“If they know I’m here, then they know you’re here, Al,” Feliks pointed out, running his hands through his hair as if it was somehow less perfect than when he’d first left the hotel that morning. “If I go in, they’ll all just wonder where I’ve hidden you.” A playful glint came into his eyes as he met Alfred’s in the mirror’s reflection. “I bet you’ll be the life of the party. Everyone will want a piece of you.”

“You do tend to be popular, where you’re accepted,” Toris added on distractedly, his attention far more dedicated to driving than to the conversation.

“Exactly! They’ll love you. How could they not?”

Rolling his eyes, Alfred sighed and shrugged. “They’ll love me because that’s what I’m _for_ , Fe. Not cause they actually like me or don’t have a problem with incubi. You know most mythicals think I’m scum.”

“But they’ll still take a piece of that ass if they can get it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not gonna stick around if anyone gets in my face. I’ve had my fill of that over the last two hundred years. I’m not in the mood for uninvited groping, either. I get more than enough of that.”

“We’ll leave if anyone’s nasty,” the nymph promised, putting the visor back up into its original position. “This is supposed to be a fun night, so we won’t let anyone be mean to you.” He turned and smiled at the bespectacled blond. “I promise. Okay?”

Alfred studied him for a few seconds, then nodded, satisfied with the sincerity in Feliks’ tone and expression. At least if this didn’t go well, he wouldn’t be dealing with it alone.


	33. Chapter 33

Apprehension so thick you could choke on it filled the car the closer they got to _Rún_. It was all coming from Alfred, but it was still obvious to Feliks and Toris. They were clearly nervous, too, and took their time finding a place to park near the club. All three of them were tense as they left the car and crossed the street; the sun had set, and London’s nightlife was rising to replace the daytime’s peaceful shopping crowd. These were wilder times and, it seemed, there was more than a little magic drifting around.

Alfred could already feel eyes on him as the three approached a large, old brick building. The entirety of its front face was covered in a thick layer of ivy, so the main entrance, a set of ornate double doors, was almost lost amongst the leaves. Others came and went, pausing at the doors for just a second or two before being allowed inside.

They were looking at him. From the corner of the building, half hidden in leaves and shadow, tucked into the alleyway. Three pairs of eyes watched; he could feel them following his movements and wished that Feliks and Toris were walking at his sides rather than leading the way. Alfred felt vulnerable, and he already wanted to leave. It took everything he had not to cling to the back of Feliks’ shirt like a child as they approached the club’s front door.

Like everyone else had done, the trio paused under the slight overhang, the ivy so close it brushed their shoulders and pants.

A panel slid open and eyes peered at them through the small opening in the door. “Who goes?”

“A faerie, a nymph, an incubus,” Feliks kept his voice smooth as he answered, and the eyes narrowed on the last word.

“Incubus?”

“Yes.”

The eyes vanished; they could hear voices muttering, the word “incubus” being passed along like a rare and valuable trinket that everyone wanted to see. It made Alfred want to run. This wasn’t going to end well.

Seconds passed, and Alfred had to physically restrain himself from holding onto his friends. Whether it was for his protection or theirs, he wasn’t sure. Someone might dislike his presence enough to get aggressive. It had happened before. Alfred could handle his own against most, but Feliks and Toris weren’t like him. They didn’t like to fight, they were physically smaller than he was, but less likely to be gone after. He was the problem.

“Come right in, sirs.”

Alfred almost thought he was hearing things, but the door swung open and he, Feliks, and Toris, were allowed into the club. Together, the three stepped forward. Past the doorframe, the air was sweet and heavy, like the air in the farthest reaches of an ancient forest. It was dark, but a different kind of darkness than the night outside. Tiny lights glowed and glittered near the ceiling like stars, and soft, muffled music reached them from somewhere…deeper.

“This way, please.”

The door was shut behind them, and they followed the new stranger down a short hallway. Doors lined both sides, old, heavy carved wood. At the end, another set of double doors awaited them. But their guide stopped at the first door on the left and opened it, motioning them through.

Alfred got a good look at them, now. One side of their head was buzzed, nearly bald, and the other side boasted long hair a thousand shades of blue; it matched eyes that glowed in the dim lighting. They smiled, displaying a set of dazzling, dangerously sharp teeth too long for a human. More like a shark. Fins grew from their ears, framing high cheek bones, and subtle creases on each side of their neck betrayed closed gills.

_A siren._

He’d never met one in person before, but turned away to follow Feliks and Toris into the offered room without comment. Candles burned in brackets along the walls, illuminating plush, burgundy velvet couches, a low, beautifully crafted wooden table, and a wardrobe standing at the opposite end of the room. A glass—or crystal?—decanter and four matching glasses on a silver tray sat on the table, offering a drink that looked like wine.

“It’s customary that guests shed and change during their visit,” their escort explained, passing the trio and moving towards the wardrobe. “There’s no reason to hide anything here. It helps everyone to relax.” Another smile. “Will you be needing a collar for your pet?” they asked, opening the wardrobe to reveal an assortment of fine fabrics to choose from.

Alfred opened his mouth to ask what that was supposed to mean, but Feliks spoke first.

“No, thank you. The clothes will be fine.”

It was always strange to hear the nymph interact with other mythicals. His usual playful demeanor was smothered, and it made Alfred nervous. Like they had to be careful.

The siren nodded. “Once you’re ready, go through the double doors at the end of the hall. Your things will still be here whenever you decide to leave. If you need anything, ask the doorman.”

“Thank you.” Feliks offered a smile, and kept it in place until the siren had gone and the door was shut.

“Did they call me your pet?” Alfred asked the instant his companions relaxed. Haltingly, he pointed over his shoulder at the door, face twisting and untwisting with confusion. “They…have collars…?”

Feliks sighed and shared a look with Toris. “Some old places are like that.”

“Incubi are pets?”

“Ah,” Toris bobbed his head side-to-side, weighing his words, “that’s…a modern way of putting it.”

Alfred couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A _pet?_ He was a _pet?_ But most mythicals didn’t want anything to do with him! How could he be so unwanted and also property? It was…

The American stopped, paling as he looked at his friends. “The ‘modern way of putting it.’ So, what, a couple hundred years ago, I’d have been a slave?”

“But, like, a really valuable slave. Pampered, and stuff,” Feliks tried to make it sound a little less terrible.

“Oh.” Alfred ran his tongue over his teeth, his entire body growing tense. “Okay. So, like, a fucking harem or something, right? Spoiled and _pampered_ like a prized animal, so long as I was a good, attentive sex slave for my _master, right?_ ”

“Alfred—”

“No,” he didn’t let Feliks speak, shaking a finger, “see, I’m real fucking curious, Liks. When we met, was that your first thought? That I might be a good pet? A pretty, ignorant, helpless little plaything for you?” His gaze shifted to Toris, including him in the question. “I didn’t know shit about what happened to me. I didn’t know anything about it. I was over a hundred years old, and didn’t know shit. You approached me. Did you think, maybe, you could groom me into being your pet, let me think you were just taking care of me? Helping me?”

“Oh, Alfred, of course not!” the nymph burst out, hurt and bewildered by the accusation. “We did it so that no one else would!”

“Alfred,” Toris spoke softly, soothing both blonds, “a long time ago, we were in that place. It’s gotten better in recent centuries, but,” he glanced at his mate, and Feliks took his hand in silent comfort, “it was really terrible, for a while.”

“We didn’t want it to happen to you. Do you honestly think we’d do that? Did it seem like we tried at all over the last hundred-odd years?” Feliks asked, clearly still upset. “This is the oldest place we’ve been to in ages. That you’ve been to, ever. That’s not an accident. We didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Then why are we here now?” Alfred demanded plaintively, his voice dangerously close to cracking.

“Because we can’t avoid it forever.” Toris shrugged one shoulder. “There’s not as many of us as there used to be. The old places are the safest. You and Feliks are moderately famous among humans, and other mythicals notice that.”

“Couldn’t we have talked about that before deciding to come here? You could’ve warned me. Let me stay at the hotel.” Feeling drained now, Alfred sank down onto one of the couches, its softness threatening to envelope him. “I don’t want to be here, Tor.” He lowered his face into his hands, slumping his shoulders. “I don’t want to be in a place where I’m a possession.”

“You’re not a possession, Al,” Feliks assured him, sitting on his left as Toris settled to his right. “You’re you, and you don’t belong to anyone.”

“We can leave, if you want. We already promised we wouldn’t make you stay,” Toris reminded him.

Both of them leaned into his sides, wrapping him up in warmth and comfort.

“Yeah.” He could feel himself relaxing again, safe there with his friends. “But you wanted to check it out. Feliciano and Lovino are waiting for us.”

Feliks shrugged then nuzzled the larger blond’s shoulder. “I can reschedule.”

They were so kind to him. They always had been. And he’d accused them of wanting to use him.

Guilt washed over him, and Alfred sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Yelling. Thinking you only came up to me ‘cause you wanted a pet. Neither of you would ever do that. You’re my best friends.”

“Apology accepted.” Feliks smiled, acting more like his usual self.

“Do you want to leave?” Toris glanced around the room as if checking for a clock. “We can go back to the hotel and watch a movie.”

“With popcorn!” Feliks chimed in. “And ice cream!”

They both smiled at him, and Alfred had to admit it was a tempting option. And yet, now that he was more relaxed, and knew the situation, and that he was safe with his friends, he was curious. He’d never been anywhere like _Rún_ before. Already, he’d seen a siren, a creature he’d never met. This place was old, and he didn’t like the way he’d be thought of here, but he supposed it was a step up from not being allowed in at all.

“Actually,” he spoke after several long moments of thoughtful silence, “I think I’d be okay with staying. For a little bit. Just to check it out.”

The blond at his side made no move to pull away from him. “You sure? We totally don’t have to.”

“It took us decades to be okay with places like this,” Toris added. “You don’t have to stay if you’re not ready.”

“We totally understand. It’s, like _the_ shittiest situation to deal with.”

Alfred actually smiled, finally leaning back into the couch and uncovering his face. “You guys are the best.” They smiled and squeezed him affectionately. “But, yeah, we can stay for a bit. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Someone could try to buy you,” Feliks joked, rising to his feet and moving towards the wardrobe now that it was confirmed they would be staying.

“No one in this place could afford me.”

“I dunno,” the nymph was rifling through the wardrobe’s contents, “this is a super old, intensely magical place. There’s bound to be some real powerful, unbelievably wealthy creatures hanging around.”

“Probably, but I don’t think you’d ever sell me off. Who could possibly replace me as your Ken Doll?”

“Mm.” He’d chosen several items now. “I’m sure _someone_ would offer me enough money for a prize like you. The real problem is Arthur.” Turning, his arms full, Feliks smirked at his friend. “How would I ever explain that I sold his immortal sex demon boyfriend to some ancient creature in a magical nightclub?”

Alfred was grinning now, totally relaxed by the typical banter. “I don’t think he’d take it very well.”

“And I’m such a sap, I’d never be able to get in the way of true love like that.”

Toris held back a laugh.

“Guess you’re stuck with me.”

Feliks put on an exaggerated expression of dismay. “Oh, _hell_. But I’m, like, getting so tired of having you around. I don’t know how much more I can take. With all the threesomes and the sexy motorcycle and all—I’m just exhausted.”

“Yeah, I can tell that the frequent orgasms are really troublesome.”

Carefully, Feliks began laying out the clothes he’d chosen on the other couch. “They are! What with the extended foreplay and how thorough you are—especially when you’re hungry—I’m worn out.”

“Maybe you’re just getting old.”

With a gasp, Feliks whirled around to face the other two males, a hand dramatically held to his chest. “ _Old?_ ”

Alfred just grinned, and Toris shook his head.

“You’re not getting old, Fe,” the brunet comforted.

“Thank you, Toris,” the nymph responded pointedly.

“You don’t look a day over nine-hundred-and-fifty,” Toris finished with a completely straight face, and Alfred snorted back a laugh even as Feliks huffed and turned away again.

“I can’t believe I put up with either of you. You’re both lucky I’ll even help you get changed.” Turning again, the blond put his hands on his hips. “You first, Incubutt. Strip and switch.”

Alfred rolled his eyes, but did as his bossy friend said and rose to his feet, pulling his shirt off over his head. “Sometimes you sure act like you own me.” The shirt was dropped on the couch and he began on his belt.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if I didn’t.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d just work on bikes and cars and not have to get up insanely early for another surprise photoshoot ever again in my unending life.”

Feliks hummed noncommittally and finished organizing the clothes he’d chosen for them. “Drop your skin and get dressed. I’m going to go ask for that collar.”

“Collar?” The word brought Alfred up short. “Why?”

“Because you’re safer if everyone thinks you’re ours than if they think you’re up for grabs.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. He’d never worn a collar—outside of sex—before. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry,” Feliks had a sly grin, and his tone was more teasing than comforting, “I won’t put anything ugly on you. Have to keep my Ken Doll looking his best!” Then the nymph was gone, out the door into the hall to see about getting a collar.

Alfred watched the door shut behind him then sighed. “Is this a good idea?” he asked, looking at Toris as the brunet began his own process of undressing.

“Staying?”

The blond nodded.

Toris considered the question as he folded his clothes and stacked them neatly on the couch. “I’m not sure. It will probably be fine. You’ll be with us the entire time, and we’ll be with the Vargas’; I doubt anyone will try to give us trouble. It would be rude, I think. The collar will tell anyone who notices you that you’re spoken for—by Arthur, if not by us—and that should be enough. On the off-chance that someone does cross the line, we’ll take that as our cue to leave.”

“Yeah, okay.” Alfred didn’t sound as confident as he would have liked, but the mention of Arthur helped. He’d already had the thought of letting the smaller man collar him, so if he kept that in mind, he could get through this. Who knew, maybe he’d send Arthur a picture just to see what he thought of it.

“Okay,” Feliks slipped back in and shut the door with a snap, “they gave me like twenty to choose from, so I grabbed these, which one do you like?” He held out five borrowed collars for Alfred to see, and the American paused in his examination of the clothes to look them over.

They were all made of thick leather a couple of inches wide, definitely real, and lined with a soft padding around the inside so that they wouldn’t chafe. Each had a silver ring attached to the front, obviously meant for a leash. The only real difference were the colors. Feliks had made sure to grab a dark red, a white, a blue, a black, and a black with small spikes on it. At least he’d forgone anything too gaudy or ostentatious, which Alfred had no doubt was a struggle for the flamboyant blond, and had remembered to limit himself to Alfred’s favorite colors.

“I think the plain black one. I’m not really looking to draw attention.”

“You want people to notice the collar,” Feliks pointed out, a bit absently, his attention shifting to where his lover was standing naked near the other couch, “so that no one thinks you’re available.”

“The spikes, then.”

Feliks handed him the chosen collar, gave Toris one last lingering look, then left again to return the other collars he’d brought. Alfred sighed and fastened the thick strap around his neck, careful not to buckle it too tightly. It was snug, but the lining was comfortable, so at least it wouldn’t irritate him.

While Toris was busy dressing in what Feliks had chosen for him, Alfred picked up his discarded jeans and fished in the back pockets for his phone. He turned, backing up towards the wall and standing near one of the candle brackets for dramatic lighting, smirked, and took a picture of himself. His face and neck—plus collar—were clearly visible, as well as his shoulders, and his collarbone sat just above where the picture cut off at the bottom. His eyes looked darker than normal thanks to the lighting, and the unfamiliar surroundings gave it an air of mystery that he knew would throw Arthur off. The Brit wouldn’t know what to make of it.

His smirk grew into a grin as Alfred sent the picture to his absent boyfriend, and he tossed his phone back towards his clothes just as Feliks came in again.

“Why are you still naked, and human?” the nymph demanded, already stripping as he crossed the room.

“He’s sending pictures to Arthur,” Toris answered, and Alfred tried not to look sheepish as Feliks snorted.

“Wow, Incubutt. Guess you actually like the collar.”

Alfred shrugged and finally set about getting dressed in his borrowed clothes. “Eh, it’s all right. Definitely better quality than some I’ve worn before. Are there underwear?” He looked around the floor, thinking maybe he’d dropped them.

“Nope.” Feliks was already naked and starting to glow as he shed his human disguise. “That would be nasty, and you have a tail, anyway. No undies.”

Humming his distaste, Alfred tightened the sash around his waist, not sure how he felt about this. Feliks had only given him what amounted to a thick toga that stopped a few inches above his knees, and only partially covered his chest where it fastened over his left shoulder. “I don’t get a shirt, either?”

“Wings,” the nymph reminded him, “you and Toris have to keep your backs bare.”

The faerie in question was already dressed in his own toga and had fully revealed his true form, his blue glow and iridescent wings strange and somehow even more inhuman in the glow of the candles. Feliks, on the other hand, fit in perfectly, the gold shimmer of his skin dancing as he moved; even the candles themselves seemed livelier than before. They both looked ancient and beautiful, adorned in the thick, expensive cloth wrapped and tied around their bodies, draping just so. It was a look much better suited for centuries ago in a far away land, not modern London, and Alfred knew he wouldn’t look the same. As much as a chance to stretch his wings tempted him, he was reluctant.

“Do I have to?” he asked quietly once both his companions had dressed and were busy tightening the straps of the sandals they’d been given; Alfred thought they looked like the belonged in a gladiator movie, but their garments were far too high quality. It was as if they were royalty and had stepped forward in time.

“Yep, no human disguises allowed.” Feliks adjusted his himation—a rich, heavy garment that wrapped around his body in elegant layers—and finger-combed his hair. “You heard the siren.”

Alfred sighed and sagged slightly, accepting his fate, then hunched his shoulders and took a deep breath. He shuddered, groaning quietly as his body changed. It wasn’t painful, exactly, but the pressure of his extra appendages growing so rapidly wasn’t comfortable, either.

He ran his tongue over his fangs and stretched his wings, tail easily finding and escaping through a hole sewn at the back of his toga. That, at least, would be comfortable.

Feliks and Toris waited as he laced up his own sandals—whoever owned this place was definitely Greek or Roman or _something_ —and then incubus and faerie waited as the nymph gave them one last check.

“Well, you both look ancient and powerful.” Feliks smiled his sharp, pointed smile, then moved to stand at Alfred’s right side and took his hand in a possessive, comforting way; Toris did the same at his left. “Ready?”

“Do I have to call you ‘Master?’” Alfred asked, looking from one to the other, and Feliks giggled.

“I won’t complain if you do.”

Toris fluttered his wings in barely-controlled interest. “That could be fun.”

Alfred rolled his eyes, but he was grinning, and he could smell that both of his companions were enjoying their state and attire. “Feeding time when we get back to the hotel?”

“Are you hungry?” There was a knowing glint in Feliks’ angular green eyes.

“I will be by then.”

“Then behave while we’re here, _pet,_ ” the blond purred, making Alfred want to growl, “and we’ll have a feast later.”

“Deal.” Alfred’s voice was low and husky as he said it, his appetite already waking up to the promised meal.

“Shall we?” Toris reached for the door handle, paused until both blonds nodded, then opened the door and lead the way out into the hall. Together, with Alfred safely claimed in the middle, the three approached the double doors that hid _Rún_ ’s inner depths.


	34. Chapter 34

No sooner had the doors closed behind them than Alfred, Feliks, and Toris found themselves greeted by the same blue-haired siren who’d escorted them to their changing room.

“This way, please.” Those shark-like teeth looked even more dangerous than before. Turning, they lead the trio deeper into the dark space they’d entered.

Music and darkness surrounded them. It was muffled and distant, and not a tune Alfred recognized, and seemed to be coming from every side. There were no lights, but there also wasn’t anything to see. And yet, they had no trouble seeing each other, and their escort. It was as if they were walking through a void.

“ _Rún_ is protected by very powerful magic,” the siren informed them, gesturing at their strange surroundings, or rather, the lack thereof. “Without a guide, entry to the club itself is impossible.”

“What about leaving?” Alfred asked, and the siren looked back at him with a quirked eyebrow. To Alfred’s irritation, their attention shifted to Feliks, as if the nymph had been the one to speak.

“There is nothing here meant to keep guests in or to trap a visitor. You are free to leave whenever you wish.”

All three of them relaxed a little at that.

They walked in silence for only another handful of seconds, and suddenly there were lights. Two sconces were bracketed to a wall that hadn’t been there before, candles glowing brighter as Feliks, particularly, drew closer. Between the sconces, a heavy, wine red velvet curtain stretched from floor to ceiling. The sudden appearance of the entire end of a hallway that hadn’t previously existed was unnerving at best, and Alfred was starting to wonder if they should have just left, after all.

Smiling, the siren drew the curtain back and stepped out of the way. “After you.”

Cautious, Feliks, Toris, and Alfred walked through the newly revealed opening in the wall, and found themselves in the heart of _Rún._ To the left, a bar served drinks to all manner of mythicals. To the right, tables and booths provided plenty of places to sit and rest and eat. Straight ahead and down a staircase, a dance floor beckoned, a shifting mass of inhuman bodies and flashing, multicolored lights that zipped around on their own, clearly a product of magic rather than electricity. A DJ was set up at the far end, in a raised booth where a view of the dance floor helped to gauge what music to play. Right now, it was something fast with a heavy bass that vibrated through the air. Everything was burgundy, black, or gold. Leather, velvet, and silk; the height of luxury. Whoever ran this place was unbelievably wealthy.

“Would you like a table?” the siren asked them, letting the curtain fall closed.

“We’re here to meet the Vargas brothers,” Feliks responded, his tone guarded and formal once more.

The siren smiled widely, which seemed to Alfred to be more frightening than friendly. “Right this way, please.” They lead the three visitors over to a rather large, circular booth where two mythicals already sat with drinks and a platter of fresh berries and prepared fruits. Long, powerful fingers picked at the tray, bringing the treats towards faces that were obviously not human. Pointed, slightly upturned noses sat beneath large, dark eyes—Alfred’s first thought was that they must be sensitive to light, like a nocturnal creature. They both wore short, pointed hats with wide flaps out to each side, which he then realized were held that way by long, slender, pointed ears. All in all, they sort of reminded him of a weird, nocturnal monkey he’d seen on a nature documentary once. Especially the eyes and the hands.

“Feliks!” one of them called as the group approached. “I’m so glad you made it!”

The accent was unmistakable. That was definitely Feliciano.

“ _Ciao,_ Feli,” the nymph replied with a warm smile as he slid into the booth and moved around to sit by the younger Italian.

Doing his best not to stare at the brothers’ true forms—it wasn’t often he met other mythicals, and he’d never met anything like them before—Alfred followed Feliks’ lead and sat beside the smaller blond as Toris took the last space at the end, keeping him safely in the middle.

“A waiter will check on you shortly,” the siren informed them as soon as they settled in, and Feliciano smiled.

“ _Grazie,_ Marinos,” he said cheerfully, and the siren, Marinos, bowed slightly before leaving, vanishing behind the curtain a moment later.

“Do you know them?” Feliks asked, tilting his head curiously.

Feliciano selected a grape from the platter—100% silver, unsurprisingly—and popped it into his mouth. “No, but it’s good to make friends in new places.”

“No harm making connections,” Romano added, taking and inspecting a strawberry before eating it.

“It’s good for business, at least.” Feliks still didn’t let himself relax entirely, not just yet. “Have you met many others since you arrived?”

“Eh, a few. You!” Feli beamed at the three of them. “It was very lucky to be in London at the same time!”

The compliments were enough to draw Feliks into a more relaxed conversation, and he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table and eyeing the platter. “Lucky for us, you mean. How often do I get the chance to work with someone who isn’t a boring old human?”

“Uh,” Alfred’s face wrinkled in mildly offended confusion, “every day?”

That drew a few chuckles from the others, but Alfred didn’t so much as crack a smile. Feliks had never acted like humans bored him before—he’d always found them amusing and entertaining. He liked humans. Sure, sometimes it got stressful to hide themselves so much of the time, but Feliks had never attributed that to humans being boring.

“Whatever. I’m totally thrilled that you’re opening a store here. And I like the name,” he gave the brothers a knowing look, “hiding in plain sight.”

Romano smirked and leaned back in the booth, draping his arms along the top. “Why lie to the humans who have treated us so well?”

“So, you’re _monaciello,_ then?” Alfred asked, hoping that he’d pronounced it right. Just another example to back up Feliks always bothering him to learn more languages. The nymph would undoubtedly pester him about it later.

“ _Si,_ we are.” The brothers shared a look before both leaning forward with clear interest, those dark eyes examining the bespectacled blond across from them. “And you are in incubus.”

Nervous, Alfred found Feliks and Toris’ hands under the table and held them tightly. “Yes.”

“And he belongs to you?” Romano asked, gaze sliding to Alfred’s right and landing on Feliks.

The nymph shifted nervously, his grip on Alfred’s hand tightening to keep his reaction from being noticed. “He works for me. He’s one of my models.”

“You’ve collared him,” the older brother pointed out, and Alfred was suddenly very, very aware of the snug strap around his neck.

“Well, I can’t just let any random myth with a sex drive try and steal him, can I?” Feliks tried to joke, but his voice was strained. “I’ve got to protect my favorite employee.”

The Vargases didn’t look impressed by that response, but turned their attention to Toris. “And a faerie?”

“Laumė,” the brunet specified, and the brothers nodded.

“Are you also a model?” Feliciano asked, eyeing Toris’ wings.

Shyly, Toris smiled and tucked his chin, shaking his head. “No, definitely not. I help Feliks manage the company.”

“He does way more than I do with it,” Feliks admitted, giving his mate a fond look. “I like, never remember to order bolts or spools when I need to—I’d never get anything done if weren’t for Toris.”

The brothers observed the interaction with quiet amusement, then Feliciano smiled. “Are you mated?”

Both Feliks and Toris nodded, and the Italians beamed at them.

“ _Congratulazioni!_ How long have you been together?”

Toris’ face turned slightly purple, his blush blending with the blue glow of his skin. “We met in 1569.”

“And stumbled upon Alfie here in, what, like, 1904?” Feliks looked up at the taller blond sitting beside him, eyebrows drawn together as he tried to remember.

“1907,” Alfred corrected, “in a bar in some backwater town in Michigan.”

“Obviously,” Feliks looked towards the brothers sitting across from them, “he was the most gorgeous creature we’d seen in ages, so we had to talk to him.”

“And I never managed to escape,” Alfred joked, and Feliks and Toris laughed, but Romano and Feliciano frowned a little.

“Why would you want to escape?” Romano asked.

Feliciano added, “You seem well treated.”

Their smiles faded. Alfred’s shoulders grew tense, his grip on Feliks and Toris’ hands almost painfully tight.

Toris cleared his throat delicately. “We don’t own Alfred.”

Both Romano and Feliciano looked surprised at that. “Really?”

“It would be in poor taste. Both Feliks and I are from…desirable races. We know how it feels to be an object, and we wouldn’t wish that on anyone else. Alfred is our best friend. He’s wearing that collar for his own safety.”

Feliks forced a smile and squeezed Al’s hand under the table. “Times are finally changing. We don’t have to follow the old ways anymore. Places like this are so old-fashioned,” he gestured at the club flippantly with his free hand, “so the collar is just easier than fending off all the old hornies who’d see him as a trophy.”

“There aren’t many who would agree with your point of view,” Romano pointed out, his focus shifting back to the platter of food. “Be careful.”

As if he took offense to that, Feliks sat up a little straighter, his green eyes flashing. “We can handle ourselves.”

Immediately, Feliciano’s demeanor turned placating. “We meant no harm,” he assured the blond, “we only want our new friends to be safe. I think you’re right, the old ways are dying, and some of them deserve it.” He smiled at Alfred, unsure but hopeful. “Alfred is lucky to have friends like you.”

“Well,” Feliks relaxed again, satisfied that he wasn’t being challenged, “we couldn’t just leave him in that bar. He was all alone.”

“I was changed in 1781, during the War,” Alfred explained, keeping his voice low. “I was a soldier, and one night I was sitting by the fire with some of the others. One of them turned out to be a vampire. Didn’t know what he was back then, but.” He stopped, shrugging. “Woke up the next day with a crushing headache and apparent invincibility.”

“Do you know who it was?” Feliciano asked, more out concern than curiosity.

Alfred nodded. “I talk to him sometimes. He likes to call himself my dad.”

“What about the other?” Romano finally chose a few blueberries.

“Drunken bastard,” Alfred replied, his tone matter-of-fact to keep any bitterness out of it. “They were both soldiers from overseas who came to help with the War. I’d never met either of them before that night, but we ended up drinking together. I don’t talk to him.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t keep you,” the older Italian commented, and Alfred laughed.

“Keep me? I was just a piece of ass to them. They didn’t even stick around long enough to explain what happened to me. I didn’t find out who they were until over a century later, after I met Fe and Tor. We went to a bar and there was dear old dad, hitting on some poor kid, trying to score a meal.”

“And you punched him square in the nose,” Feliks finished the story for him, grinning at the memory.

“Yeah, well, he deserved it.”

That at least, got small laughs from the dark-eyed mythicals on the other side of the booth, and Alfred finally relaxed. Feliks took advantage of the lull to lean and peer towards the bar, his expression impatient.

“Shouldn’t a waiter have come to take our orders by now?”

In response, Romano lifted a hand, and within seconds, a woman with short, curly black hair and golden-brown skin appeared beside the table. Rather than a uniform, she wore a woven brown and gold scarf that barely covered her chest, and a black half-apron that revealed the short, coarse fur of her legs. She bowed slightly, the golden chains that decorated her small, twisting horns glinting as they moved.

“What can I get for you?” she asked, slanted green eyes flitting between them.

“I’ll have a kiwi-blueberry fizz,” Feliks spoke first, and the faun produced a notepad and pen from her apron to mark it down.

Her attention shifted to Al and she paused, blinking to finally realize what he was. Then she shook herself and smiled. “For you?”

Alfred decided in that moment that he really needed a drink if everyone was going to react like that. “Long Island Iced Tea, please.”

She wrote it down then smiled at Toris.

“Just a water with lemon.”

His order was scribbled down, as well, and then she turned to Feliciano and Romano. “Refills? Limoncello, right?” Nodding, both brothers slid their mostly empty glasses down where she could pick them up. The faun slipped her notepad back into its pocket, then produced three small menus from a second pocket and handed them to Toris. “I’ll be right back with those and to take your orders!” Then she was gone as suddenly as she’d appeared, taking the empty glasses with her.

Romano and Feliciano went back to their platter while Toris passed along two of the menus for Alfred and Feliks to look over. They’d been sitting quietly for only a minute or so, listening to the music that drifted up from the dance floor as they perused the menus, when a tall figure approached their table.

“Excuse me.”

All five of them looked up, taking in the man who stood there. Easily over seven feet tall, he had skin pale as death, and dark, sunken eyes that didn’t seem to have a pupil or an iris. He also didn’t seem to be wearing any actual clothes, just a black shawl that hung off his thin, painfully bony frame. Straight black hair fell past his shoulders.

“Yes?” Toris eventually answered him, and those eyes focused on the faerie.

“My master wishes to inquire a price,” he said plainly.

Taken aback, Toris blinked rapidly before turning to look at his companions in bewilderment. “Price?” he repeated, looking back to the stranger.

“Yes,” he looked at Alfred, one pale, long-fingered hand gesturing, “for your pet.”

Immediately, Alfred stiffened, his confusion falling away as anger surged up and his face contorted in offended disgust. “I’m not—” A hand grasped his arm, too low for the stranger to see.

“He isn’t for sale,” Feliks spoke over Alfred, his tone polite, but firm. “Kindly tell your master that he is unavailable.”

The stranger nodded, bowed slightly, and walked away towards a different booth, one set back in a corner. Silent, they watched him kneel at the end of the bench, addressing someone who sat too far back in the shadows to see, clearly the mysterious master who wished to buy Alfred.

“Well.” Feliks picked up his menu again, shaking himself as if to clear away the tension. “Rather rude, that.”

“He must be very old,” Toris commented, still subtly keeping an eye on the other table.

“I don’t care how old he is, it was rude.”

“Can we leave?” Alfred asked suddenly, still tense and angry. “Before some other ancient ‘master’ decides to offer you a sack of gold for me?”

“But you must stay and have your drink!” Feliciano insisted, looking at Alfred pleadingly with those big eyes.

Without a word, Feliks picked up Alfred’s arm and put it around his shoulders, slipping over into the American’s lap. “I dare anyone to ask after you now,” he said, voice low and possessive.

“Fe, I—” Alfred began, but was interrupted by the nymph hooking a finger through the hoop on his collar and pulling him down into a firm, demanding kiss. It caught him by surprise, but he didn’t resist, too distracted by the little sparks of pleasure coming off the smaller blond.

Slowly, the nymph pulled away, but didn’t let go of the collar. When he met Alfred’s confused—and now slightly hungry—gaze, he smirked and licked his lips, green eyes mischievous. “Yes, my pet?”

Alfred almost growled, but settled for wrapping his arms around Feliks’ waist and holding him close. “You’re going to pay for that.”

Not at all intimidated by the threat and looking rather pleased with himself, Feliks snuggled into Alfred’s chest. “Sounds fun.” He winked at Toris, and the faerie stifled a laugh at his mate’s antics.

Rolling his eyes, Al let himself relax again, comforted by Feliks’ weight and warmth, and the obvious claim the nymph had just made on him to keep the unwanted advances of strangers at bay. Clearly amused, Romano and Feliciano watched the exchange from their side of the table, then wordlessly went back to hunting through their platter for the tastiest bits. Feliks stayed where he was, picking up his menu and flipping through it idly as Alfred looked over his shoulder, rather than let go of the nymph to use his own menu. It was easier to share.

“We should dance after we eat,” Feliks mused after a few minutes, scanning a list of desserts.

“Seems like a waste, coming to a club like this and not dancing,” Toris agreed.

“We should all go!” Feliciano grabbed his older brother’s arm excitedly, and Romano smiled fondly.

“ _Si,_ we should.”

Alfred didn’t add anything to conversation. Normally, he would have been the first to agree with Feliks that dancing was the only acceptable course of action. But, normally, they went to human clubs, or mixed company parties, places where no one knew what they were, what he was. Places where he didn’t have to wear a collar or worry about someone trying to buy him. People always groped him when he danced, it was something he expected, and something he often did to find a meal, but he definitely didn’t want it to happen here. Not where he wouldn’t be allowed to refuse or walk away without someone causing a scene.

A pair of lips pressed to his cheek, drawing Alfred out of his thoughts, and he looked down at Feliks’ reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry,” the nymph whispered, fingers toying with the hoop on Al’s collar, “me’n Tor will keep you too busy for anyone to bother you.”

“Yeah.” Toris leaned into Alfred’s side, smiling. “We’ll be right there the whole time.”

“You know how bad I am at sharing,” Feliks teased, and Alfred managed a laugh.

“Okay, okay. I’ll dance.”

Just then, their waitress approached with a tray full of their drinks, and the conversation shifted to ordering their food. Feliks stayed where he was, which Alfred was grateful for. He still wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to stay—this place made him nervous, at best—but he knew Feliks and Toris would do their best to keep him out of trouble. For now, they’d have their drinks and order some food, and dancing would come later.


	35. Chapter 35

The sounds of his blaring alarm was a familiar rude awakening that had Arthur slapping at the clock on his bedside table, fingers searching for the right button. At last, he managed to click it off, and blessed silence fell in his dark bedroom. He lay there for a few moments, eyes still closed, taking the risk that he might drift off again, but not actually worried about it. That’s what second alarms were for.

It was so nice to drift in the space between awake and asleep. Still, he only allowed himself to stay in bed for another minute or so before he sat up and swung his feet over the side to the floor.

“Mm.” He stretched, his back popping faintly, then rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms to force the sleepiness out of them. Habitually, he slipped his feet into his house shoes and wiggled his toes into the soft warmth before he stood and shuffled towards the kitchen.

His kettle was filled with water then went onto a burner as he switched it on, then a frypan, bread, eggs, and shredded cheese populated the counter. Arthur ran on autopilot, cutting out the middle of two slices of bread, buttering both sides, and dropping them neatly into the frying pan before setting it on its own burner. An egg was cracked and dropped into each slice, the burner was turned to medium heat, and then he left it to wander back towards his bathroom to wash his face.

The splash of cold water woke up him up enough that he finally opened his eyes all the way, blinking away the water and at the brightness of the bathroom lights.  He patted his face dry with a hand towel then went back to the kitchen to check on his breakfast. The toast was sizzling quietly, and he had to dig a spatula out of its draw to check how they were coming; just slightly golden brown, the bottom of the egg firm. Arthur flipped both pieces of toast to begin cooking the other side. The kettle wasn’t quite to the point of whistling, but he still shut off its burner and poured the water into a mug, then left it to cool just slightly while he packed some loose-leaf black tea into his tea ball, just enough to make a single cup to go with breakfast. By the time he dropped the infuser into the mug, his toast was ready to be flipped one last time, and then Arthur set himself a spot at his table.

While the toast finished, he went back to the bedroom again, this time to retrieve his phone from where he’d left it by his alarm clock the night before to charge. There was only one notification waiting for him, a text message that Alfred had sent rather late last night. Arthur clicked it open as he headed towards the kitchen, only to freeze in the hallway when the photo he’d received finished loading.

It was Alfred, a selfie, which wasn’t the least bit surprising. What made Arthur stop mid-step was the fact that the American appeared to be naked, or shirtless at the very least, and was wearing a collar. The lighting was odd, so he must have taken it at whatever club the Vargas brothers had wanted to visit. It was, he had to admit, a very nice picture. His appreciation, however, was entirely overridden by his confusion at Alfred’s lack of clothing. It took him several long seconds to get over the shock, and then he sent a text back asking what exactly Alfred had gotten up to last night. He doubted the blue-eyed blond was awake this early, but he still had to ask. Al would respond whenever he woke up, and until then, Arthur would enjoy his breakfast and get to work.

X

It was uncomfortably hot and sticky.

Trapped beneath blankets and two bodies, Alfred could feel himself sweating, only adding to the slick stickiness of the situation. And holy fuck, he was _thirsty._ Clearly, he’d fallen asleep without brushing his teeth. The gross, thick, fuzzy feel and sour taste were enough proof of that.

“Ugh…Fe…let me up…”

“Mm.”

“Feliks.” He nudged at the bodies that were half sprawled on top of him.

“Mmmnstop it.” Feliks turned over, not moving off of Alfred at all.

“Fe, I swear, I’ll never do another surprise photo shoot again if you don’t let me up,” the larger blond threatened, and Feliks giggled sleepily.

“Yeah, you will,” came the groggy, sing-song response, and Alfred rolled his eyes.

“Nope. Never again.”

“Then I’ll fire you.’

“Uh-huh, and then you’ll have to find a new incubus to make your designs look good.”

A face nuzzled into Alfred’s shoulder. “My designs always look good.”

“I’m still your favorite Ken doll.”

“Mmm…true.” With that, Feliks rolled all the way over Alfred’s back, wrapping himself around a still mostly asleep Toris and pulling the brunet with him to the other side of the bed.

Free at last and already feeling far less overheated without two extra bodies, Alfred sat up and ran a hand through his hair—ugh, definitely needed a shower.

“I’m going to make coffee.” There was only a soft hum as a response, the pair already close to sleep again. Alfred stood, found a pair of boxers to put on, then left quietly, letting them have their time alone together.

The living room beyond was a complete disaster.

Mildly surprised by the mess, Alfred surveyed the remnants of what must have been a very interesting night. The pillows and cushions had been removed from the couches and strewn about the floor. Various articles of clothing were everywhere, discarded in careless haste.

Alfred rubbed his hands over his face, decided it was a mess that could wait, and picked his way across the destruction to the kitchen to start up the automatic coffee maker. The smell of it brewing after a minute or so was enough to summon Toris and Feliks, both bleary eyed and bedraggled and not bothered in the least to be naked.

Looking more like a zombie than a nymph, Feliks shuffled into the kitchen and began hunting for a mug; Alfred took pity and handed him one, since Feliks apparently had yet to actually open his eyes.

“Thanks.”

“Hungover?”

Feliks groaned and leaned against the counter while Toris began looking in the fridge for breakfast. “I was fine until I stood up. Human booze is so weak compared to what mythicals brew.”

Alfred and Toris nodded in agreement to that. They were all so used to going to human bars and barely being affected by regular alcohol that last night had been…well, Toris had been sober so he could drive them back, but Alfred and Feliks might be better off not remembering exactly what took place.

Humming, Toris left the fridge and wandered into the pantry, returning a moment later with a sack of russet potatoes under one arm, an onion in hand, and an armful of other ingredients, all of which he deposited on the counter. Feliks watched him absently, not seeming to notice when Alfred poured coffee into the mug in his hand.

“Are you making _blynai_?” the shorter blond asked, and Toris nodded. “Need any help?”

“No.” There was a laugh in Toris’ dark blue eyes, his smile fond. “You should probably recover before you mess with knives or hot surfaces.”

Feliks gasped with exaggerated indignation. “You don’t trust my cooking skills?”

“I don’t trust your hangover.”

“Yeah, me, either,” Alfred agreed between sips of his own coffee.

Scowling, Feliks looked between Toris and Alfred then huffed and stalked off back towards the bedroom, taking his coffee with him. “Don’t know why I put up with this. Rude.”

“Love you, too, Liks,” Toris called after the nymph, and Feliks raised one hand in response, his fingers curled into a fist with his thumb poking between his index and middle fingers in a familiarly obscene gesture that only made Toris laugh. “He hasn’t had to deal with a hangover in a while.”

“Sure is cranky.”

“He’s always cranky.”

“Maybe you should get him a kitten.”

“I’m afraid he’d love it more than he loves me.”

“Naw, that’s not possible.”

“Easy for you to say, Mister Popular. You broke more hearts last night than I’ve ever even tried to woo.”

Alfred shrugged and swirled his coffee. “Typical night out. Do you need any help?” He downed the last of his mug and set it in the sink to wash.

Toris shook his head and set to peeling the potatoes he’d chosen from the sack. “If you want to go shower, I’ll be done by the time you are.”

“You sure?”

The potato peeler was waved dismissively. “Go on.”

“I’ll handle cleanup, then,” Alfred promised as he stepped away.

“Sure, sure.”

Since his assistance was clearly not needed, Alfred did as Toris had suggested and went to his own room to shower, and brush his teeth, and just generally rid himself of the unpleasant remnants of last night. He spotted his jeans as he was crossing the living room, haphazardly tossed and partially inside out from how hastily they’d been discarded. Alfred had to roll his eyes at himself—really, he can’t have been _that_ drunk—as he picked them up and fished around in the pockets for his phone. It had died sometime during the night, so he plugged it in beside his bed and left it to charge while he got cleaned up.

His room and bathroom, at least, had not been caught up in last night’s drunken haze, and were exactly as he’d left them. Thankfully, he could shower in peace, and Alfred took full advantage of that, not emerging for nearly half an hour, and feeling about a thousand times better. He dried off and dressed, finally brushed his teeth, and checked how his phone was doing. It wasn’t fully charged yet, but it was far enough that he could turn it on and take it out to the kitchen while he ate breakfast. Buzzing as it came to life, it immediately let him know that he had an unopened text from Arthur; Arthur paused to open it.

_> >Did you lose your shirt?_

Ah, right, the selfie.

Alfred read the text a few times before he settled on a response.

_< <The Vargases picked a weird place for drinks._

He didn’t wait for a text back, knowing that Arthur was at work and probably busy, and slipped the phone into his back pocket as he went back out into the living room.

Toris turned when Alfred reappeared, a plate full of bacon and sausage in hand. “You look like you’re feeling better.” At some point, he’d found and put on a pair of jeans that looked like they might be Feliks’.

“Oh, yeah. Much.” Al took a seat at the table, claiming one of the three places that Toris had set out. “Fe’s not out yet?”

“He’s taking a bath.”

“Ah. So, we’ll see him in a few hours.”

“I heard that!” Feliks’ muffled, indignant voice shouted, and Alfred grinned.

“Am I wrong?”

There was silence as Alfred and Toris waited for a response, and both laughed quietly when none came.

“He knows I’m right, he just doesn’t wanna admit it.”

“I won’t argue with you.” Toris set the plate on the table and sat opposite of Alfred before beginning to serve himself.

“It looks delicious,” Alfred complimented, snagging a few of the _blynai_ for himself.”

Toris gave the other a sly look. “I’m surprised you’re hungry, after how much you fed last night.”

Not letting himself feel flustered by that, Alfred shrugged and picked a few sausage. “Alcohol makes it worse.” Toris hummed noncommittally as if he didn’t quite believe that, but Alfred didn’t bother trying to convince him. They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments before the sounds of music began to drift out of Toris and Feliks’ room. They paused in their meal, listening, heads cocked as they tried to place the familiar melody.

“…Paderewski?” Toris guessed, and Alfred nodded slowly.

“I think so.”

“He always was fond of his piano concertos.”

“It’s the best music for relaxing,” Feliks interrupted, venturing out into the kitchen in a silk robe, and probably nothing else. “It smells amazing out here.” He kissed Toris’ cheek before he sat and loaded up his own plate with the brunet’s cooking.

Having a late brunch with his best friends, accompanied by the sounds of Paderewski, was probably one of the better mornings Alfred had ever had.

X

 

Arthur couldn’t believe his day had devolved to this. He’d had such a lovely morning, good breakfast, plenty of sleep, a nice walk to work before the rain set in. Absolutely lovely. And now his neck was burning, and he had his eyes glued to the papers on his desk in a desperate attempt to block Gilbert out.

“Vell? You vent out last night, didn’t you? Did anyzhing happen?” With both hands flat against Arthur’s desk, Gilbert leaned forward earnestly. “Come on, tell me ve didn’t do all zhat shopping for nozhing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” Arthur sighed, giving in to the Prussian’s pestering. “I just haven’t…had the chance.”

“Vhy not? You two have great chemistry.”

“I don’t want to wear something like that and not do anything. It would be wasteful.”

“But if you don’t vear zhem, you’ll never use zhem.”

Arthur groaned and put his head down on his desk. “I know. And I want to—obviously, he’s bloody gorgeous and charming and _perfect_ —but we just never seem to get that far.”

Straightening, Gilbert shrugged and put his hands on his hips. “Ask him, zhen.”

It took a few seconds for those words to process, then Arthur looked up at Gilbert with a suspicious sort of confusion. “What?”

“Ask him vhy you haven’t had sex yet.”

“No!”

“Vhy not? Vhat if he’s got a reason? Vouldn’t you vant to know?”

“You don’t just ask someone why you haven’t shagged yet.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes so hard Arthur thought he might strain something. “Zhis coming from zhe famed former punk? Sexual deviant extraordinaire?”

He let his head fall back onto the desk. “That was a long time ago.”

“Mm-hm. Ask him.”

Arthur groaned but didn’t otherwise move. Silent, Gilbert picked up the blond’s phone and placed it in front of him.

“You’re really going to make me ask him, aren’t you.”

“Vhat else are friends for?”

The noise Arthur made was somewhere between a groan and a wail, though he kept his voice down. “Fine. Git.”

The insult was met with a dismissive wave. “ _Ja, ja._ It’s lunch time, anyvay. Just call him and ask.”

With a resigned sign, Arthur logged out of his computer for his lunch break and picked up his phone, clicking it on to find that Alfred had responded to his text.

“A weird place,” no kidding.

He gave Gilbert one last sour look—the albino only grinned at him—before tapping the phone icon in the corner of the screen and putting it to his ear as it rang.

_“Hello?”_ Alfred’s voice sounded just when Arthur thought it was going to go to voicemail.

“Uh,” Arthur glanced at Gilbert, slightly panicked, “er, hello, Alfred.”

_“Hey, Artie, what’s up?”_

“Loosen up,” Gilbert hissed, and Arthur swiped at him with a frantic glare.

“I was wondering if you had a moment to talk.”

_“Yeah, I—”_ his voice suddenly grew distant, _“shut up, Fe, I swear to—”_ the rest was too garbled for Arthur to make out, but he thought it was safe to assume that Feliks was teasing Alfred about him. _“Sorry. Yeah, I’m not busy.”_

_“He’s abandoning his friends!”_

_“Shut up, Feliks!”_

Arthur couldn’t keep the laugh out of his voice. “What’s he talking about?”

_“He’s making me’n Toris learn yoga with him like some sort of demonic personal trainer,”_ the last bit was clearly aimed at Feliks, and Arthur heard the indignant tone of the fashion designer’s response even though he couldn’t tell what he said.

“Why would you need a personal trainer? You’re perfect.”

_“Well, gee, darlin’. Thanks.”_

Heat turned Arthur’s cheeks red, and he deliberately spun his chair so that Gilbert couldn’t see his face. “Anyway,” god, he sounded so flustered, “I wanted to talk to you about…us.”

_“Us?”_ Alfred repeated with an obvious amount of concern.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Arthur was quick to clarify, “it’s just that, with how intimate we’ve been, I was wondering if there’s any reason we haven’t, you know.”

_“What, had sex?”_

“Well. Yes.”

_“Uh, no, no reason.”_ He was so clearly confused that Arthur had to close his eyes and take a moment to breathe.

He could do this. It wasn’t like he was a virgin, blushing about his inexperience and hoping he’d met “the one” to have sex with for the very first time. Gilbert was right. He’d never used to have shame about this, and he shouldn’t now.

“Okay. I was just worried there might be something wrong.”

_“No, you just always seem pretty worn out after the other stuff.”_

“Right. Well, you’re quite the experience, you know.”

Alfred laughed. _“As long as you’re enjoying it.”_

“Definitely, that’s why I wondered.”

_“I guess I just don’t want to overdo it. I’d love to do it, but you get tired, and I’m not gonna push you to do something you’re too tired for.”_

It was so sweet and thoughtful and absolutely in character for Alfred that Arthur found himself smiling. “You’re not going to break me, you know. I’ve done plenty worse.”

_“Yeah, but I’m not looking to be any sort of bad experience for you.”_

“I doubt you could, even if you tried.”

_“Thanks. So, uh, do you…want to meet up when you’re off work?”_

Arthur hummed thoughtfully. “Sure. You can pick me up on that bike of yours.”

_“Okay. Five?”_

“Five. We’ll go to my place.”

_“Right. You’re sure about this?”_

“Absolutely.”

_“Okay. I’ll see you then.”_

“Looking forward to it.”

The line went dead, and Arthur put the phone down as he spun around to face Gilbert. “Happy?”

Grinning more than a little smugly, Gilbert folded his arms over his chest and nodded. “Very.”


End file.
